


All We Have Is Each Other

by SinisterSound



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Abusive Households, Being on the streets, Deliquents - Freeform, Fluff moments too though!, Homelessness, Homophobia, Homophobic slurs (but I kept them to a minimum), Hongjoong is in charge, Ill add more tags as I remember what I was supposed to tag, Just a bunch of boys trying to make it together, Just read with caution because it’s a little bit of a mind field, M/M, Runaway orphans au, Sickness, Sort Of, Still never know what to tag, Street Rats, There’s some heavier stuff, Winter, backstories, cursing, its all over the place, physical and verbal abuse, skate parks, some of which are emotionally constipated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-06-24 01:18:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 77,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19713388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSound/pseuds/SinisterSound
Summary: Different pasts can lead to the same present.They all considered themselves homeless.No one here had a home.Some had houses. Some had people who lived in those houses. But no one had a home. No one had a family.None except for the little gathering here that shared a bag of chips.Hongjoong just wants his family to be okay.Seonghwa just wants to help.Wooyoung and Yeosang just want to remain free.





	1. You Are My Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Ok ok ok I was gonna keep waiting, but I got the plot sorted in my head, so I decided to just go for it!!  
> It’s not EXACTLY the runaway orphans I planned (though those still show up) but! I still hope you can all enjoy it~~  
> It sort of bounces all over the place, so I hope it isn’t confusing lol!  
> I hope you all enjoy it, and thank you to everyone who has been leaving comments and questions, I’ve really enjoyed them all!!  
> Happy reading, and let me know what you think~  
> -SS

Habits are the key to survival when you’re on your own. 

With no phones and living inside a world that would rather see you gone, knowing where any given person is at any given time is the only thing that let’s you find each other again. Having regular haunts, routine passings, normal locations to hang around… And if you weren’t going to be where you were supposed to be… 

That was rule number one: Always have a list of places to look.

And Wooyoung had already checked the warehouse. 

It was just at the edge of evening, the sky stained the barest shade of pink on the horizon. 

Wooyoung walked leisurely, but with confidence down the sidewalk, watching the trees sway in the gentle, cool breeze. The glow of evening tinged everything slightly darker, but he didn’t mind a bit. 

His hands rested in his pockets comfortably, his fingers playing with the holes in the fabric that had been worn through. Hongjoong would get angry at him for making them bigger, but it didn’t stop him. 

The breeze ruffled his tangled hair, but it felt nice as he passed from neighborhood and trees into more concrete surroundings. 

He stopped at the chain link fence gate with a tightly sealed padlock, curling his fingers through the holes and leaning closer until his nose brushed the cold metal. Through the chain, he saw a lone figure gliding along the skate ramps, making small rolls up and down there, leisurely and casual. Just killing time. Not there for any sort of extreme practices. 

He grinned. “Hey! You there!” he yelled. 

The joke had long since stopped being funny. They knew each other’s voices intimately, so Yeosang barely even glanced over his shoulder, giving Wooyoung an unimpressed stare that used to make his blood boil. He continued rolling along, unbothered by his presence. 

Wooyoung snickered, grabbing the holes of the fence and hauling himself up. 

Survival tip number one: Habits. 

Number two? Know how to climb shit. 

He dropped down on the other side of the fence, walking with his hands in his pockets once more as he approached Yeosang who kicked off and rolled all the way up a ramp, grabbing his board as he flipped and landed to slide back down. 

Wooyoung snorted. “That stopped being impressive three years ago.” He paused at the bottom of the ramp, lips quirked up annoyingly.

Yeosang, again, said nothing, simply skidding smoothly to a halt and staring at Wooyoung. 

“What’s up?” he questioned quietly, seemingly apathetic.

Wooyoung jerked his head over his shoulder. “Some chick near the grocery store gave San some chips. We’re meeting at the park.” 

Yeosang lifted an eyebrow. “What about Seonghwa?” 

Wooyoung shrugged. “He didn’t have any food with him when he showed up. But he pulled Hongjoong aside before he even got to us, and they were talking.” He sighed. “I think his old man might have found out.” 

He could see the near-imperceptible wince in Yeosang’s eyebrows. Practically a violent flinch for the reserved boy. Wooyoung nodded sympathetically, extending an arm. 

“Let’s go.” 

~~~~~~~

At the park, the others were already gathered. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa sat in the dirt beside each other, and even in the darkness, Wooyoung could make out the dark bruise on Seonghwa’s cheek. He winced slightly as they approached, but Seonghwa smiled, telling them they were just in time. 

It wasn’t often that Seonghwa came around like that, but it wasn’t anything to be shocked over. 

Yunho sat in the grass nearby, and San was making a small sand castle in the dirt that Jongho kept destroying as soon as he built it. 

Mingi sat at the bottom of a slide with a backpack at his feet. 

Wooyoung stomach dropped at the sight. 

“What’s that?” he asked, already knowing what the answer would be as he walked over, Yeosang right behind him, board tucked under his arm. 

Mingi eyed it with a heavy gaze, but with no sadness or regret. “All the stuff I’ve had packed the last couple weeks.” 

“She actually kicked you out?” Yeosang asked, voice heavy, level, and flat like his expression. “It took her long enough.” 

“Yeah,” Mingi muttered, huffing with something close to amusement, rolling his eyes. 

There was never regret for being kicked out of a shitty place. 

The only regret came with the loss of another emergency food or shelter location, but if it meant one more of them being kicked out of hell, it was a small price to pay. 

Wooyoung reached over, hitting his leg. “It’s about time,” he snorted. “I was wondering if we were gonna have to break you out of there.” Mingi snickered, shoving his hand off. 

“You’re moving to the warehouse?” San asked, holding a bag of chips gingerly. “We might need three crates for you. You’re long.”

Jongho snorted. “It’ll be a safety hazard unless you put him on the ground to sleep. He’ll roll right off the edge.” 

“What did you pack?” Yunho questioned, his work apron folded neatly beside him. He must have just gotten off if he hadn’t already stopped at the warehouse. 

“Mostly clothes,” Mingi said, unzipping it. “A little blanket. A few cans of food. I knew we’d need them.” 

“Save them,” Hongjoong said, and Wooyoung took note of the dark circles around his eyes. “Those will stay good even in the heat.” 

Mingi hummed. “And a little bit of money.” He took one glance at Hongjoong’s glare and rolled his eyes. “I’ve had it for  _ months _ , if she was going to notice it being gone, she would have already chewed me out.” 

“How much?” Seonghwa asked, eyes narrowed like he was prepared to make Mingi turn back around and return it. 

“Only 50,” Mingi said. “I could have made it 60, but my stupid fucking cousin came home early.” 

Wooyoung could already see Hongjoong’s mind going, cataloguing and calculating everything to see where it should go and what would last. 

50 among eight people wasn’t much. 

“What made her finally snap?” Jongho questioned as San ripped open the bag of chips and set it down in the middle of their little circle. 

Mingi shrugged. “She came home in a shit mood. Told me to stop being so fucking loud because I was breathing, and when I told her to go fuck herself, she said to get out.” He shrugged again, unbothered. “Probably the same way her shit husband got booted out.” 

Everyone snickered, the atmosphere that odd mixture of heavy-light. It would be gone within a couple of days, though. 

“Speaking of,” Yunho said, frowning at the sky that was turning dark. “Jongho- are you trying to get kicked too? It’s pretty late.” 

Jongho glanced at the already fading sunlight, expression neutral. “I don’t care. I got a B on a pop quiz, so she’s gonna bitch me out either way. Might as well get failing grades and staying out past six done at one time.” 

“She’s gonna do more than bitch you out for staying out  _ this _ late,” San said, grinning. “I’d make sure she doesn’t have any sharp objects near her when you see her next.” 

Jongho just shrugged, already leaning to grab a couple chips. 

Sometimes, Wooyoung had to admire how the others couldn’t give two shits about their homes. How willing all of them were to name themselves in their little crew of homelessness. 

They all considered themselves homeless. 

No one here had a home. 

Some had houses. Some had people who lived in those houses. But no one had a home. No one had a family. 

None except for the little gathering here that shared a bag of chips. 

But there was a difference between having absolutely nowhere in the world to go, and only using your house as a place to snag extra food or clothes for the others. 

And with Mingi now officially a resident of the warehouse, that left only Jongho and Seonghwa with even a house to their names. 

Given both weren’t out by the end of the week, too. 

“Well, shit,” San said around a mouthful of chips. “Let’s all just get kicked out of our houses. We’ll make a big party out of it. Mingi went first. Then Jongho, and maybe Seonghwa will be gone by Saturday!” 

They snickered together as Seonghwa quirked his lips, everyone ignoring the elephant in the room on his cheek. “With how pissed my father was when he caught me sneaking food, I wouldn’t say I’m very far behind you.” 

There was no fear. 

No regret. 

The only thing keeping any of them in their shitty homes was the fact they could still help within them. 

Sneaking in at midnight to get showers. Snagging extra food. Smuggling out a blanket. Stowing away clothes. 

And none of them would begrudge the others for leaving those homes-  _ never _ . But having all of them leave would make things a lot more difficult. It was an unspoken fact that was not addressed, ever. 

“Got any water?” Yunho asked, making an uncomfortable face. “I’ve been dying for some since this morning.” 

They had water at the warehouse. That was always the first thing money was spent on. Usually, businesses wouldn’t kick them out for asking for a cup of water, and there were some hoses around the city that were accessible, but clean water was always their priority. Yunho, though, clearly hadn’t stopped by today after his shift. 

Mingi nodded, taking out a reusable water bottle and handing it over. 

Despite probably not drinking anything all day, Yunho only took as much as he needed to rinse his mouth and then take two more gulps. Mingi drew a poor rendition of a stick figure that was probably supposed to be Yunho, and snickered as he pointed it out. 

Yunho threw the water bottle back at him, the group erupting into snickers and laughter as Mingi threw it back, catching Yunho’s shoulder. 

None of them were shocked or angered or heartbroken by getting kicked out. In fact, it was almost a relief. And barely minutes after the revelation, conversation had already moved on to Yunho bitching about work. 

“-ruined the entire display of chips,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “And then broke one open, put it back, and grabbed a  _ different  _ one-“ 

Yunho was the only one among them with a real job. A kind, but rough around the edges convenience store owner put him on where he can, despite having all the help he needs. He didn’t work a lot, but money was money. 

When Yunho paused to take a breath, Wooyoung jerked his head towards Hongjoong, passing Yeosang a chip when the other had tugged at his sleeve. “What did  _ you  _ do last night?” He questioned, gesturing vaguely to his own eyes and smirking. He shivered lightly as a chilly breeze blew by. 

Hongjoong rubbed at his own dark circles, as if that might erase them. “Just some garbage work,” he sighed. “Sorting it and stuff for the morning crew to start throwing away.” 

His voice was that kind of forced-casual that he thought they couldn’t pick up on to know that he was exhausted and/or hurting. Wooyoung scanned him and his eyes landed on Hongjoong’s left hand that curled loosely around his right wrist. It probably ached. 

Hongjoong worked, but rarely the same job twice. 

Unfortunately, that meant work came slow and far between. 

Hongjoong would never say anything about being in pain- serious or not- so no one pushed him on it. 

Conversation continued on until the chips had all run out, and San leaned his head on his knees, grinning at Seonghwa, eyes a little heavy. “Was it that bad that you were sneaking food?” he questioned carefully. 

Jongho, however, frowned. “I’m surprised you’ve still got a place.” 

Seonghwa snorted lightheartedly. “As if he’d ever kick me out. That’d make me  _ happy _ .” He waved a hand, dismissing the thought completely, still smiling gently, even if his eyes were dark. 

There was a quiet that fell over them for a moment. 

Parents and homes were weird. Because there was equal amounts of tell-all and don’t-ask. It depended on the day and the shit that happened. 

Usually, it was safe to ask about whatever Seonghwa’s parents did to him. But sometimes, it was just a silent shrug to tell you not to press further. 

So when Seonghwa stopped talking after that comment, no one pushed for details. 

It was okay though. He and Hongjoong had been talking before. Which meant it was okay. It had to be okay. 

Only after the sun was completely gone did Jongho stand and stretch saying he needed to get some sleep for school tomorrow. 

Mingi stood and offered to walk with him. “There are all sorts of ruffians about,” he snorted, throwing an arm around Jongho who tried to shove it off. 

The rest stuck around, either talking or playing (San begging Yeosang yet again to ride his board which was adamantly refused. Yeosang didn’t let anyone touch his skateboard.). Wooyoung didn’t know why he bothered asking anymore. 

Only when the moon was high in the sky and beginning to drop did Seonghwa do that heavy sigh he did when he thought about going home. 

And only then did Hongjoong do that half glance at the older, asking a silent question that was answered either with continued silence or another sigh as Seonghwa stood. 

Today, Seonghwa stood, and Hongjoong got to his feet with him. 

“Heading home?” Yeosang asked where he hung upside down from the monkey bars. 

Seonghwa nodded. “He’ll be asleep by now so I’ll avoid anymore bullshit.” 

That was the best remedy for a shitty house: go home late and leave early. 

“Yunho, go ahead and take everyone back to the warehouse,” Hongjoong said. “The officers will probably be circling soon. I’ll head back here to wait for Mingi later, and we’ll meet up with you.” 

Yunho gave a salute, and Seonghwa and Hongjoong walked off into the darkness. 

Wooyoung stood from where he had been seated in the grass, dusting off the bits that clung to him. Yeosang swung down from the bars and popped his skateboard into his hand, San sliding down the slide once more, making a puff of dust that was nearly invisible in the dark night. 

They walked, guided only by the dim street lamps that lined the road and the rumbling of Yeosang gliding along beside them.

The warehouse wasn’t the best place to hang around. It had closed down probably decades ago, and not a soul went near it but them. It was virtually the only place they could stay without someone getting nosy and calling the cops on them. 

Maybe it did have 164 health and safety violations, and maybe they had almost gotten hit by collapsing railings and falling ceiling tiles. 

But, hey, it was Home. 

Yunho kicked a rock down the street. San hummed, balancing on the edge of the sidewalk with his hands held out. 

Knowing him, he was probably a million miles inside his head, pretending he was at a circus. Balancing a hundred meters up and with a million people watching him. 

Yunho kicked the rock and watched it skid into Yeosang’s path, only years of skating along stopping Yeosang from running over it and breaking his neck. He jerked the board to the side, looking unimpressed as Yunho tried to hold back laughing. 

San looked disappointed. “I wanted to see him face plant,” he huffed, glaring at Yeosang for taking away his amusement. 

Yeosang kicked the board into his hand and carried it the rest of the way, silent as the shadows. 

The warehouse had no windows, glass scattered across the outside and inside that they had cleaned up as best they could in the areas they moved around in. No door, just a sheet they pinned up over the main entrance. It made it fucking cold during winter and oppressive during the summers, but these middle months were rather pleasant as long as it wasn’t raining. 

They strolled up, Yunho holding the sheet back for them. 

It was one large open space with a catwalk along the upper wall that lead into different cramped rooms they had cleared out. 

Some of them slept on old crates they shoved together and others preferred to just curl up on the floor. 

They headed upstairs, a gentle breeze floating through the windows. There was no electricity, and the entire warehouse was pitch black, but they all knew it like the back of their hands, navigating even in complete darkness. 

“I’ll wait up for Hongjoong and Mingi,” Yunho volunteered, sitting down on the edge of the steps of the catwalk. 

They bid routine good nights, walking quietly to their little areas. 

“I’ll get a space set up for Mingi,” San said. “You guys, give me one of your blankets.” 

Wooyoung didn’t fight him on it, heading into his and Yeosang’s designated room and taking one of the two blankets there. It was getting chilly enough at night to be concerning, but he and Yeosang had body heat to make up for lost coverage. 

San left to his area next door, and he and Yeosang entered into theirs. 

There was silence as Yeosang set his skateboard down carefully in the corner, kicking his shoes off as Wooyoung did the same, laying down first, rearranging the jackets they used as pillows (that they would need when it did get cold, but for now they would just use each other) and settling in, curling up on his side under the little throw blanket, sighing as he relaxed into the cold metal floor. 

He heard Yeosang move around a bit more, rearranging some things before kneeling behind Wooyoung and laying down silently. 

He scooted forward until his front pressed to Wooyoung’s back, arm coming and laying across his waist. 

Wooyoung settled back against the familiar warmth, feeling Yeosang’s fingers at his hip. 

Yeosang’s face buried in the natural curve of his neck, cold nose brushing his skin. 

“Goodnight.” 

Wooyoung hummed in response, eyes closing. The breeze was cold, but the blanket and Yeosang made the temperature bearable. 

He floated in and out of a light sleep until he heard Hongjoong and Mingi’s voices passing the hall. 

He heard Hongjoong pause, checking in on them, before they continued on. 

Wooyoung finally let himself fall asleep, Yeosang already breathing quietly behind him. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong and Seonghwa stood at the edge of Seonghwa’s street. Seonghwa had yet to step onto it. 

Hongjoong was quiet beside him. 

“You can always stay at the warehouse,” Hongjoong murmured quietly. 

Seonghwa wet his chapped lips, wincing as the action moved his cheek. “No,” he said quietly. “He’d only be more pissed off.” 

“He’s leaving, isn’t he?” Hongjoong asked on a desperate attempt to improve his mood.

Seonghwa took a weak breath. “He said he might stay another week. Something changed with the company.” 

And even if his voice didn’t waver, Hongjoong knew it wanted to. But Seonghwa would never let himself cry. He never did. 

Crying was weakness, and weakness was a worse crime than disobedience. 

Hongjoong did the only thing he could: slid his hand into Seonghwa’s and squeezed gently. 

It was the needed pressure as Seonghwa turned into him, letting his head fall to Hongjoong’s shoulder and slump against him. Hongjoong hugged him tightly, closing his eyes. 

He wished Seonghwa was selfish enough to leave. 

It was only a few moments before Seonghwa pulled away, clearing his throat as he straightened, face clear of its earlier distress. 

“I’ll see you later, Hongjoong,” he rasped, not meeting his eyes. 

Hongjoong nodded, not trusting himself to open his mouth. If he did, he would tell Seonghwa to stay. 

Seonghwa walked down the street, illuminated with street lights. Hongjoong waited until he couldn’t see Seonghwa anymore. And then he waited a little longer, just in case Seonghwa turned around and wanted to go back to the warehouse. 

Only after too long did he turn away and walk back into the darkness. 

Even home had never hurt as much as this. 

~~~~~~

The warehouse was quiet. 

These were the time Yeosang liked best. When it was still and quiet and as if the world had stopped turning for just a moment. Sitting on a crate in the main room, one knee drawn up comfortably and watching the sun rise. He never used to be a morning person. 

He never used to be a lot of things. 

He stared silently at the sky that was dyed natural shades of pink and gold, watching how the trees and grass danced in it. 

He never used to find sunrises relaxing. 

A familiar weight draped itself across his back, Wooyoung pressing his still asleep form to Yeosang’s back, letting him take his weight as he groaned sleepily. 

“Go back to bed then,” Yeosang murmured quietly, never looking away. One of his hands did come up to circle Wooyoung’s wrist, just holding it loosely. 

Wooyoung made a stubborn hum, pressing against Yeosang harder and rubbing his face against his shoulder like a cat wanting to be pet. 

“ _ You’re _ the one who can’t sleep without someone to be on top of,” Yeosang told him, still just allowing him to hang. 

Wooyoung bit his shoulder- hard enough to be felt but not hard enough to piss him off. Yeosang ignored him, but his lips tilted upwards the smallest bit. 

“Well, then, lay down here.” 

It was apparently the invitation Wooyoung was looking for, but it was one he never needed. 

He circled Yeosang, sitting on the crate and laying his head in his lap. It was uncomfortable, surely, with Wooyoung half off of the box, but he settled in like it was a newly washed hotel bed. 

Yeosang just pet his hair absentmindedly, not even bothering to look down. 

It was quiet. 

Wooyoung was back asleep in his lap within seconds. 

Yeosang never used to feel peaceful. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong waited at the end of the street, leaning against a tree off to the side, carefully hidden from view of the cars passing by. 

He saw the sleek red corvette pull away, and his lips twisting in a frown as he watched it race off. He sighed, settling against the bark. 

Seonghwa was later walking down the street than usual, feet dragging as per usual. 

But Hongjoong frowned, straightening off of the tree. Seonghwa paused in line with the tree, glancing over, and tried to smile. 

God, did he try. 

Hongjoong stepped over, blood chilling. “What happened?” he demanded, grabbing Seonghwa’s arm, eyes racing over him, looking for more bruises or blood- 

Seonghwa shook his head slowly. “He… It’s nothing, he just had a lot to yell about this morning.” 

Hongjoong knew it wasn’t nothing. It was never nothing. 

But Seonghwa would never talk if he didn’t want to. So, Hongjoong forced a smile. “Want me to key his car?”

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa sighed, shaking his head. 

“He’d never trace it back to me!” Hongjoong assured him. “At least let me slash a tire or two.” 

And when Seonghwa looked back up, his smile was a little more genuine, eyes a little less heavy. “Let’s just go,” he said, knocking his shoulder into Hongjoong’s as he kept walking. 

Hongjoong walked beside him, glancing at him, and even if his expression was lighter, his shoulders still held the same weight they always did. 

“One of these days, I’m gonna do it even though you tell me not to,” Hongjoong muttered, hands shoved deep in his threadbare pockets. 

Seonghwa gave him a stern look. Hongjoong sighed, making a gesture of defeat. “I don’t need you getting into more trouble for me,” he said. 

Hongjoong scoffed. “The cops can’t actually do anything to me. They just like pushing around people with nowhere to go.” 

Hongjoong had a bit of a rep with the cops. He was the troublemaker, always around and never where he should be. They, of course, couldn’t do anything to him for existing, but they were always looking for excuses to fuck with him. 

“Still,” Seonghwa said firmly. “If I ever found out you did something like that, I’d never forgive you.” 

Hongjoong huffed, chest tightening. “I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t,” he muttered. 

Seonghwa stopped walking, and Hongjoong glanced back, prepared for some sort of fight. 

Seonghwa, however, just stared at Hongjoong heavily. “Come on,” he said, taking a sharp turn, away from the road that would take them to the warehouse. 

Hongjoong followed, already knowing where they were going. 

Within minutes, they were sitting in the park, perched on the edge of a fountain, on the other end of the park from where they met during the nights. Hongjoong sat close to him, their hands not quite touching. 

Seonghwa simply laid his head back, face exposed to the sun, his eyes closed as he breathed deeply. 

Hongjoong swore one day he was going to kill that man. 

Hongjoong refused to call him Seonghwa’s father. He was that man. That monster. 

“I can hear you plotting revenge from here,” Seonghwa murmured quietly, not opening his eyes. 

Hongjoong glanced at him. “Are you surprised anymore?” 

“You can’t fix everyone’s problems, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong winced, the sting of the true words cutting the surface. “I can when they’re so simple to fix.” 

“I can’t leave, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said heavily, tilting his head down and staring at Hongjoong firmly, even if deep in his eyes was hurting. 

And Hongjoong hated it. Hated bringing it up. Hating making Seonghwa repeat his decision over and over when it only ever turned into a fight. 

But the most selfish part of him hoped one day Seonghwa would snap. Would give in. 

“Not a single person in this fucking group would feel anything but relief for you getting out of that fucking hell hole,” he snapped, too sharp, too cruel. 

Seonghwa didn’t even blink. “We need the resources,” he said plainly, so confident in his rote answers. “Winter is going to be here soon, and you can’t afford-” 

“You think I give a fuck about being comfortable during winter when you’re in there being beaten by a man who claims to love you?” Hongjoong snapped. 

He needed to calm down. Because he didn’t mean it. Not the way it came out. He wasn’t angry. He was just scared. So fucking scared for Seonghwa. 

“He doesn’t  _ beat  _ me,” Seonghwa said, as if there was a difference. “And  _ I _ give a fuck. You barely made it through last winter-” 

“That was a fluke,” Hongjoong fought. “We didn’t anticipate those snowstorms. Even the weathermen said they weren’t usual.” 

“And if this winter is unusual, too?” Seonghwa posed. “If one of you gets sick again? If hypothermia runs rampant again?” He shook his head. “I’m not just doing it for you, Hongjoong. I’m doing it for me. I won’t stand by and take another house from you guys. Mingi is out of his. Jongho and I are the only ones left, and-” 

Hongjoong stood, facing away from Seonghwa and taking a deep breath. 

He didn’t know how to make Seonghwa understand. How did he convince him of the truth? How did he convince Seonghwa that comfort was worthless compared to what he was being put through to get it? 

Hongjoong took several deep breaths until the anger had died some. 

This conversation would go nowhere. It never did. 

“The minute you decide you’re leaving-” 

“I know where to find you,” Seonghwa finished, lips twitching, but his eyes so fucking sad. “I’ll get out one day. When I find a job and somewhere to live. Somewhere for everyone.” 

“As if he would ever let you fucking leave,” Hongjoong muttered bitterly, voice dark and angry. 

Seonghwa’s smile was tight. 

Because that was a possible truth. Despite being of age, Seonghwa had no money to his own name, and no sight of being allowed to obtain a job in the foreseeable future. 

Hongjoong dropped down onto the edge of the fountain again, running a hand through his greasy hair. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly. For snapping, for fighting, for pushing. 

“I know,” Seonghwa murmured, squeezing his hand quickly. “I am, too.” For refusing, for being so stubborn, for not being able to leave. 

They sat in silence for a few moments, Hongjoong’s heart sinking further into his chest. 

He wished he was strong enough to help Seonghwa. 

He wished he could find a stupid job that didn’t care he had no legal home. Wished he could actually save up money and just… 

Just take everyone away. 

They stood without a word, walking back to the warehouse. The bruise on Seonghwa’s cheek was covered carefully with make up. “Your cover up game is getting stronger,” Hongjoong noted, the normalcy not quite forced. 

Seonghwa smiled, and this one was genuine. “My mom gets the good stuff.” 

“It’s probably a good thing she’s not around to miss it.” 

He hummed, nodding along, hand brushing over his cheek. 

The bruise may be covered, but Hongjoong was aware of its presence as if it was blaring lights and sound. His eyes kept being drawn to it, as they always were, and he knew Seonghwa could feel him watching. 

Seonghwa said nothing about it, though. 

He never did. 

~~~~~~~

The first time Seonghwa’s father hit him… Seonghwa felt something inside of him break. 

It was the first time he had cried in front of his father. 

It was the first time his father had physically harmed him. 

After so many years of disapproval and glares, of anger and scowls, of fury and shouts… 

They had been yelling for so long, building in volume and words as years went on and Seonghwa continued to rebel and resist at every turn. 

It was a couple of years ago, at this point, when Seonghwa’s school had called about yet another report of him skipping an entire day, and he had missed an exam, and he was failing a class, and when Seonghwa returned home, he had been pinned to the door with shouts of disgrace and disappointment and fury. 

He stood there, taking every word, not saying a thing for himself, head bowed and eyes clenched shut as his father came closer and closer. 

_ “Are you even listening to me, brat?”  _

The sound of his father’s hand slapping across Seonghwa’s face is something that still echoes in the forefront of his mind. 

Seonghwa had stared at his father in absolute shock. Yells and profanities, he expected. But the raging sting of his cheek tore through his blood like acid, burning and freezing at the same time as his father also looked startled at his actions. 

He had never… never hit him before. 

_ “Go to your room. You aren’t leave this house for a week.”  _

Seonghwa cried. In front of his father, staring at him in wild shock because he had  _ hit him-  _

_ “Are you going to cry over something like what? What kind of man are you?”  _

Seonghwa ran. He ignored everything his father said, running out of the door and down the street, tears burning after being held in for so  _ fucking long-  _

He hadn’t even wanted to go to the warehouse, but suddenly he was there, shoving the sheet aside and racing inside. He had barely entered into the open area, the few of them gathered there taking one look at him and pointing their fingers upstairs. 

Seonghwa thanked them later, but in the moment, he just ignored them, racing up the stairs to the area Hongjoong shared with Yunho. Yunho was absent, just Hongjoong sitting among a small pile of crumpled bills, trying to calculate everything. 

He said nothing as Seonghwa dropped down beside him, shoving himself into his arms pathetically. His cheek throbbed, and each beat was only a reminder, another reminder that his father had… 

He had… 

Somewhere between the cries and silences, the story spilled out, and the hit hadn’t even been that sharp of one, but it hurt. It hurt  _ everything _ because… 

Because it felt like something they couldn’t come back from. 

Hongjoong barely heard anything, but he caught the gist of it: “My father hit me.” 

He had pushed Seonghwa away, getting to his feet with murder in his eyes, and Seonghwa had to yank him back down, begging him not to do anything, that wasn’t why he was here- 

That was the first and only night that Seonghwa spent at the warehouse. 

That was the first and only time Hongjoong saw Seonghwa cry. 

It was not the only time his father hit him. 

~~~~~~

The others were scattered around the warehouse’s open area (save for Yunho who had work and Jongho who was actually at school). 

San waved to Seonghwa from where he was speaking with Mingi as the latter went through his bag, setting things into piles. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang were part of the conversation, too, Wooyoung with his back pressed against the wall, and Yeosang settled comfortably between his legs, back pressed to Wooyoung’s chest, expression bored where he picked at his nails. 

Seonghwa had to admit, he was slightly terrified of Yeosang and Wooyoung when he first met them. At the time, the only people to exist of this group were the two of them and Hongjoong, who found each other wandering and decided to team up for the winter, but never left. 

Yeosang had an expression of someone who could kill. When Seonghwa introduced himself, he had gotten a cold nod and a handshake that felt too cold to belong to a living person. 

Wooyoung looked like someone who  _ had  _ killed. He was covered in bruises and cuts and dirt, like he was constantly coming back from a fight. He had been more vocal than Yeosang, but he was still someone who just seemed so  _ angry _ . 

Hongjoong assured him that they were nicer than they seemed. 

It took two months before Wooyoung first smiled at him, a crooked smile that (at the time) was missing a tooth. 

Another month passed before Seonghwa got up the courage to whisper to Wooyoung while Yeosang glared at him from across the room. 

“He looks like he wants to kill me,” Seonghwa hissed. 

Wooyoung looked genuinely perplexed. “Who?”

“ _ Yeosang _ .” 

Wooyoung glanced at him, frown deepening. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “Yeosang loves you. You’re nice.” 

“He’s glaring at me!” he hissed. 

“No, he’s not?” Wooyoung said, confused, looking back at Yeosang for longer this time. Yeosang stared back, stoic expression unshifting. “He seems pretty happy to me.” 

Was Wooyoung insane? 

Wooyoung tilted his head up. “ _ Yeosang _ , you good?” he called. 

Yeosang lifted the barest of eyebrows, but nodded slowly. 

Wooyoung looked to Seonghwa. “See? He likes you. He’s always liked you. I’m the one who thought you were a fucking weirdo.” 

To this day, Seonghwa didn’t quite understand all of Yeosang’s moods. All of them had gotten the idea that he wasn’t the most… expressive of people. But that was okay, it seemed, because Wooyoung had enough expressions and energy for the both of them. 

Yeosang spoke more now than he ever had, but it was still in shorter bursts, compared to the others. Wooyoung seemed to always say whatever Yeosang needed to anyway. 

And at first, Seonghwa was hesitant to really look too long at the two of them because they were… odd. Blatantly obvious and infuriatingly cryptic at the same time. 

At times, the two of them simply resided next to each other, speaking quietly, looking no different than any other person here. 

And at others, they were spooning against a wall as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

And once (only once) Seonghwa had walked into the wrong upstairs room and found the two of them kissing rather intently on the floor of their room (he still apologized about that, to this day). 

Neither of them ever put a label on it. 

Seonghwa figured that was wise because he wasn’t sure there was a word for whatever the two of them were. An odd lover-friend-partner-soulmate thing. The only people who could ever truly understand each other and the first person each of them could trust, according to them. 

Part of him wished for a relationship that simple, though. 

“Sup, Seonghwa,” Wooyoung greeted. “Wanna settle a bet?” 

Seonghwa paused, lifting an eyebrow. “I want full disclosure.” 

Wooyoung snickered, as San huffed. “Coward,” he muttered. 

“It’s just a couple yes or no question you need to answer,” Wooyoung assured him. “It’s nothing weird, we’re just curious.” 

Seonghwa was hesitant because these men were masters at getting you in positions you didn’t want to be in. But, they were usually harmless. “Fine,” he sighed. “But I reserve the right to refuse.” 

“Boo!” San cried, but Wooyoung waved for him to shut up. 

“Have you ever smoked before?” 

Seonghwa blinked, surprised by the actually innocent enough question. “No,” he said casually. “My father would kill me if I ever thought about it.” 

He ignored Hongjoong tensing out of the corner of his eye. 

“Yes!” Wooyoung cheered. “I fucking told you!” he snapped to San. “He’s too much of a goody good.” 

“Goody good?” Seonghwa muttered as San flipped off Wooyoung. He was currently hanging with a bunch of delinquents rather than attending a school he was probably actually expelled from, for never showing up. . “What’s the next one?” he demanded over San firing back his own insults. 

“Fine,” Wooyoung said, one hand tangling with Yeosang’s seemingly without thought. “Our second question was- are you a virgin?” 

Seonghwa barely had time to be shocked before Yeosang pinched Wooyoung hard enough the boy yelped, shoving Yeosang off of him and rubbing at the red skin. 

“That was not the question,” Yeosang said, voice the same quiet level it always was. “Stop trying to be funny.” 

Wooyoung swatted at him violently, but sighed, settling back against the wall. “Okay, fine,” he muttered. “The second question- do you think Yeosang would look good in blue?” 

Seonghwa blinked, this time trying to understand if he had understood correctly. 

Yeosang stared passively, as if the question wasn’t about him. 

“It’s ridiculous!” San burst. “He’s clearly someone who would look better in red! Look at his skintone!” 

“His skateboard is blue,” Wooyoung argued. “And he looks great while riding that!” 

“Look at his skin! It’s too pale for blues, he needs something that pops!” 

“I’ve seen him in blues and reds, and I think he looks better in blue!” 

“You think he looks good in everything, you’re biased!” 

Seonghwa glanced at Yeosang as they argued, and the younger just shrugged. Seonghwa nodded, turning away and walking from the loud mess. His work was no longer required. 

Staying at the warehouse could be boring, given that the only thing to really do was sit around and talk or find some piece of scrap to fiddle with. He liked it better when they would go out and walk around, hopping fences and skirting around back alleys. 

But Seonghwa did join their calmer conversation about what Mingi should do with his newfound freedom. 

“I figure it’s best to look into jobs as soon as possible,” Mingi muttered. “I don’t think my mom would take me off the registration for the house so soon, so I could get away with acting like I had someplace to go.” 

They tossed ideas back and forth about places that might take him, but Yeosang glanced up at the sky and hummed. “Yunho should be off work soon.” 

There was no additional statement along with it, but Wooyoung and he both stood together. “We’re gonna talk with him for a while, and then head towards downtown,” he informed the others. “We’ll back here by this evening, though.” 

Seonghwa waved them off, settling back against the crates that were scattered as San announced he and Mingi were going to root through some scraps they had brought back. 

Barely moments after they stood, Hongjoong returned from hiding in his room. 

By his face, Seonghwa knew it wasn’t good. “What’s the damage?” he asked carefully. 

Hongjoong sat, sighing as he rubbed at his face. “Yunho’s paychecks are getting smaller now that summerended. The shop isn’t so busy, so they don’t need him. I’m not sure he’ll still be there by the time winter starts. It’s already not enough, what the hell are we gonna do if he’s not getting any money?” 

Seonghwa remained silent, knowing it wasn’t his time to speak yet. 

“I’ve gotta find something,” Hongjoong muttered like a broken record. “Something longer lasting. Maybe there’s a fucking farm or something that needs extra hands. Or… I don’t know. Somewhere near the docks. Fuck it- I’ll clean shit up off the streets, I just…” He stared at his hands as if they were everything holding him back. “I need to find something.” 

Seonghwa was hesitant to speak, knowing the resulting conversation, but he did it anyway. “Hongjoong… I can take some-” 

“You’re not taking money from your dad,” he snapped, glaring at Seonghwa. “He did  _ that  _ to you for sneaking food-” He gestured carelessly to his covered bruise- “what the hell do you think he’ll do to you for stealing  _ money _ ?”

Seonghwa set his jaw. “There’s no risk if he doesn’t find out.” 

“Your dad keeps such detailed records- he’d find out within a week,” Hongjoong sighed. “Don’t, Seonghwa. We’ll figure it out. I just need to spend time trying to find something.” 

He scrubbed at his hair frustratedly, something like panic in his eyes. 

Time was running out until winter started. Until Yunho was let go, potentially. Until work got harder and days got miserable. 

Seonghwa drew Hongjoong in, and the other didn’t resist as Seonghwa hugged him firmly. “It’ll work out,” He promised. “It always does.” 

Hongjoong sighed, letting his head hit Seonghwa’s chest, shaking it. “I can’t just trust in that.” 

Seonghwa drew patterns on his back. “I know.” 

Hongjoong didn’t pull away, one hand resting at Seonghwa’s hip and squeezing. Seonghwa didn’t try to make him. 

He wished his relationship was as easy of Wooyoung and Yeosang’s. At least they knew they  _ were  _ something to each other. 

~~~~~~

One weird thing about no one having a place to go, meant that even when you were all running around, doing your own thing, you still ran into each other. 

Yeosang wanted to go skateboard down by the docks. Wooyoung wouldn’t refuse him, even if he didn’t want to go (it was fucking cold by the water) . 

They walked (or boarded) along the sidewalk of the back roads (they always avoided the more crowded areas). There was silence for most of their journey, broken only by Wooyoung’s occasional comment about the weather or the buildings they passed that were completely genuine. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung were never awkward. 

They passed by a sketchy looking ice cream place that probably had a million health violations, but Wooyoung watched Yeosang’s eyes trace over it as they passed, dragging along it for a little too long after they had moved on. His expression didn’t shift from its usual boredom. 

Wooyoung could see the barest hint of wistfulness dancing in his eyes, despite the chilly temperature. 

Somehow… out of all the things Wooyoung couldn’t give Yeosang, he felt the worst about something as simple as ice cream. He shoved the guilt away though, the same way Yeosang would shove away the part of him that wanted the sweet. Both of them understood that there were more important things needed. 

At the docks, they rode by the water, ignoring the crisp breeze that made them shiver occasionally, Yeosang doing that stupid thing when he shifts to the front of his board and nods for Wooyoung to get on. 

“We’re gonna fall in the water,” he muttered, even as he climbed on, their feet tangling and his arms wrapped completely around Yeosang’s waist loosely, the lines of their bodies meeting perfectly. 

“Guess you’ll just have to trust me,” Yeosang shrugged, but there was stupid amusement in his eyes that Wooyoung wanted to smack off his face, but also bottle up and set aside. 

Yeosang knew how to ride a skateboard. It was all he did for years, and especially after it was just the two of them, they had perfected riding it together. 

That didn’t mean Wooyoung didn’t pinch Yeosang’s side each time he cut a turn a little too close or was a little too confident that they wouldn’t fall from an edge. 

They saw Hongjoong and Seonghwa at the docks. 

Yeosang slowed them to a stop as they saw Hongjoong speaking with an old man dressed in fishing gear. 

“He’s not trying to get on one of those fishing boats, is he?” Wooyoung muttered, eyes widening slightly. 

“Dunno,” Yeosang murmured, eyes heavy. 

“He’s gonna get fucking sick is what’s gonna fucking happen,” Wooyoung snapped. “We don’t have heating and shit for when he gets back. Hell, the warehouse might actually be colder than out on the water!” 

It angered Wooyoung. 

It pissed him off so much, he thought he was a teenager again, using rage like it was currency. 

Hongjoong was hardly older than any of them. Yet, somehow, in his head, he had made himself out to be their savior. Like he needed to shoulder everything for them. As if all of them weren’t worried sick everytime he came back with some new injury or ache from whatever manual labor job he took on that was most likely too big for him. 

“We can’t let him go out on those boats,” Wooyoung said quietly, darkly. 

“Seonghwa will stop him from doing anything too stupid,” Yeosang assured him. “And maybe we can get some extra blankets from Seonghwa’s house.” 

“Hongjoong’s resisted Seonghwa before,” he pointed out. “And with how everything has been going, I don’t think Seonghwa’s gonna  _ have  _ a house for much longer.” 

Yeosang was quiet for a moment, Wooyoung leaning to see his face that was set in a quiet sadness. “He will,” he whispered. “Seonghwa isn’t going to leave this winter. No matter what.” 

Wooyoung honestly didn’t think Seonghwa would be able to stand it that long, but Yeosang had always been good at telling shit like that. 

It used to piss Wooyoung off. 

“Should we go say hi?” Wooyoung asked. 

He saw the man they were speaking to wave a hand, shaking his head as he turned away. Hongjoong’s bright, public-friendly smile faded, his hands dropping slowly where they had gestured animatedly. 

The man walked away and Seonghwa immediately grabbed Hongjoong’s hand, shaking it slightly as he spoke to him firmly. Probably reassuring him. Hongjoong dropped his head, rubbing at his face, shoulders hunched. 

It was a position they all knew well. And one they knew to mean that things were not looking good. Wooyoung’s heart sank to his stomach. 

“Let’s go,” he said instead, tugging on Yeosang’s shirt. “I’m sure we’ll hear all about it tonight.” 

Yeosang hummed, kicking off and turning them as they rolled off in the other direction. Wooyoung didn’t look back at the two of them. He wasn’t exactly sure what he’d see if he did. 

No one… quite knew what Seonghwa and Hongjoong were. None of them had ever  _ seen  _ anything between the two of them that indicated that they were more than friends. They showed affection the same way the rest of them did, holding hands and hugging and teasing. 

But there was something different about the way the two of them operated. Neither of them said anything, and no one had seen any sort of behavior that crossed the lines into something more. 

Wooyoung honestly sort of hoped that the two of them were something more. 

Having friends was good, but there was something different about that one person who was more. 

(His arms tightened around Yeosang’s waist.) 

Hongjoong needed that someone. Seonghwa did, too. They were both so alike, it was frightening. And a little concerning when they clashed like two mirrors slamming together. 

Everytime the two of them fought, it was like slamming two glasses against each other. Only one was always left standing. 

Yeosang brought them to a set of stairs, both of them hopping off as he kicked the board into his hand and they walked down from the boardwalk into the sand. 

They built a sand castle, shaping it carefully, placed perfectly where the waves couldn’t reach it. There was silence between them, only broken by a request for a leaf or stick to be passed. 

“Do you think it’ll actually be okay?” 

Wooyoung hadn’t really meant for the little worry to slip out into the silence, but he stared out into the waters that would become frigid once the temperature dropped and tried to imagine Hongjoong out there for hours, returning home to somewhere that could provide him no relief to that cold. 

Wooyoung didn’t want that. 

Yeosang gazed at him. 

Everyone always said that Yeosang was unreadable. And maybe he had been once to Wooyoung too, but he was an open book now, even as his expression remained the constant stoic it always was. 

Yeosang was thinking about this very carefully. 

In their situations, you couldn’t afford to mince words. But you also couldn’t afford to kill hope where it might try to grow. Sometimes, hope was all they had. 

“I think everything will work out in the end,” Yeosang said carefully. “Whether or not we could call it ‘okay’ is questionable. But… I think we’ll all still be here after it’s over.” 

Wooyoung swallowed lightly, locking eyes with him, looking for a lie that he knew wouldn’t be there. 

“Okay,” he said quietly, looking back at their castle. He remembered a time when he and Yeosang would build huge castles, naming all the rooms and promising that one day they would find a home like that. 

A cool hand wrapped around his. He squeezed Yeosang’s back immediately without looking up. “We should head back soon,” he murmured. 

Wooyoung nodded. “Let’s both walk,” he said as they stood. 

Yeosang agreed, carrying his board as the two of them took back roads and alleys back to the warehouse, fingers interlocked the whole time. 

They passed a man in the steeers who flared at them and their interlocked hands. They passed him without looking at him, Wooyoung tensing. 

He knew those glared intimately. And what would follow. 

When they passed, he felt a rock hit his back, whipping around as anger bust to the surface, the man only spitting in disgust as he continued to walk away. 

Wooyoung jerked after him, ready to do what he did best and start a fucking fight, but Yeosang kept his hand locked in his, keeping him back. 

Wooyoung glared at him. “We left so we would  _ stop _ being treated like that,” he snapped. 

Yeosang was already moving on, pulling Wooyoung after him. “And fighting him is going to do as much good as fighting those people in the past.” 

Wooyoung fumed, but didn’t try and yank away. Yeosang would kill him if he tried. But Yeosang never let go of his hand, even after the incident, his thumb gliding back and forth across the top of Wooyoung’s hand. 

And despite how pissed Wooyoung was… he wasn’t surprised by how the action calmed him. One asshole was not the same as before. 

They were still free, it assured him. 

There was a chorus of greetings from the people who were at the warehouse, and Wooyoung waved them off off-handedly, but part of him had to smile inwardly (despite the part of him still aching to punch that man) at it all as Yeosang and he found their corner, sitting down together as Mingi described his attempt at job hunting. 

Jongho sat in the corner with San, doing his homework while the other chattered his ear off about a nice man from the grocery store who let him stand under his umbrella last week. 

Their situations may suck… but at least the people here were free. 

It was just beginning to turn to the edge of evening when Hongjoong and Seonghwa walked in. 

Well, Seonghwa walked in. Hongjoong burst through the sheets so quickly, sweat sticking to his forehead, but the brightest fucking smile Wooyoung had seen on his face in… 

A long time. 

The kindling of relief at his happiness was smothered as he glanced back at Seonghwa who wasn’t even pretending to be content, his lips thin and his arms crossed tightly. He didn’t look at Hongjoong who ran over to them. 

“I got a job!” he practically yelled. 

Yunho was the first to break, rushing towards Hongjoong and hugging him tightly. San and the others standing and cheering as they ran over to join the celebration. 

The only ones who didn’t move were Wooyoung and Yeosang. Yeosang’s hand tightened around his until it hurt. Wooyoung’s jaw tightened as Seonghwa continued to stare at his shoes, clearly trying to hold back something. 

One glass always broke. 

They stood as the others parted. “Is the fishing boats?” 

Everyone turned to Yeosang, attentive despite the quietness of his voice, his somber expression making their own smiles fade, and Wooyoung  _ hated  _ to ruin that moment because it was  _ so good _ , but… 

He couldn’t celebrate something that was going to get their hyung killed. 

Hongjoong’s smile flickered a little, but he tried to keep it up. 

He tried. 

“Yeah,” he answered casually. “I asked around, and I found one man who said he was getting too old for it, and his son didn’t want any part in it-” 

“You’re going out on the boats?” San asked, frowning. “Winter is about to start, hyung. It’s going to get below freezing out there, and with the water and everything-” 

“I know,” Hongjoong said quickly, still trying to keep that smile. “But he’s going to pay me, and I’ve got it basically guaranteed for a couple of months of… work…” He trailed off, his smile finally fading to nothing as they all stared at him with heavy expression. “Why aren’t you guys happy about this?” His voice sounded hollow. 

And Wooyoung hated himself in that moment because it had been so long since Hongjoong found a job to work him more than a day, but… 

“Hyung, it’s dangerous,” he said, the others nodding quietly. “You’ll be wet, there’s  _ no way  _ we can get you clothes warm enough, and even after you get home, we have nothing to heat you with here. You’d get hypothermia the first fucking day. Not to mention what that’s going to do to your body after months-” 

“I’m getting paid,” He pushed, brows pinching. “At the end of each day. All I have to do is go out on a boat and throw some nets around-” 

“In sub-zero water,” Yunho reminded him, like he kept forgetting. “Hyung, winter is hard enough on all of us when we aren’t getting covered in water all day, every day.” 

Hongjoong stared at them, something swirling in his eyes, glancing back at Seonghwa who still wasn’t looking up. “I… What do you want me to  _ do _ ?” he demanded, voice dipping. “Go tell him no? We  _ need  _ more money, we’ve got an extra person here now, we can’t afford to let any slip by-” 

“Don’t use me as an excuse to kill yourself, hyung,” Mingi said firmly, expression withdrawn. “We can find something else-” 

“If there  _ was  _ something else, don’t you think I’d be there?” he snapped, looking around at all of them. “I- I’m trying to make sure we make it through this,” he pushed. “ _ So what  _ if I get a few colds because of it? I’m supposed to provide for you guys-” 

“No one gave you that responsibility,” Wooyoung broke in, voice quieter than he intended. “Hyung, not a single person here would rather an extra blanket over you-” 

“It’s not just about extra blankets!” Hongjoong snapped, taking a step back, like they were slowly advancing on him. “Don’t you get it?” he demanded. “I’m trying to get us out of  _ here _ !” He gestured around the warehouse. “I’m trying to save up, to actually have money to  _ buy  _ food instead of begging for it. I’m trying to get us out of this fucking shithole and somewhere  _ better _ .” 

He stared at them all, seemingly betrayed. 

“Then let Mingi go.” 

Everyone’s eyes snapped to Yeosang who stared at Hongjoong, and Wooyoung was surprised to see the barest glint of anger flare in his dark eyes. 

Hongjoong frowned. “What?” 

“Let Mingi go on the boat. Or San,” He said, voice level and unwavering. “I doubt the old man would care which young man he got to help him. If it’s just about earning money, let someone else go.” 

Hongjoong’s jaw flexed. “No,” he said firmly. “I- They’re good enough to go find jobs somewhere else. I’m going on the boat, I’m not letting-” 

“Not letting any of us go,” Yeosang broke in, never lifting his voice. “Why?”

“It’s my responsibility,” Hongjoong pushed, glaring. “I’m not telling any of you to go-” 

“Because you know it’s dangerous.” 

Hongjoong looked like his jaw was going to break from how hard he clenched it, but he said nothing. 

Yeosang’s eyes darkened. “Because you know we’d be coming home with hypothermia and you’d have no way to try and fix that.” 

Hongjoong’s knuckles were white. But it wasn’t anger. 

The warehouse was silent as the two stared each other down. Seonghwa finally looked up, eyes heavy and sad as he glanced at Hongjoong who shook. 

“Don’t lie to us,” Yeosang said, voice sanded around the edges, less sharp. “You’re taking on that job knowing exactly what you’re risking. At least have the decency to be honest with us.” 

Wooyoung stared at the hard lines of Yeosang’s shoulder, usually loose with supposed-apathy. He slipped his hand into his quietly, not squeezing, just resting it. 

Hongjoong’s lips were white with how hard they pressed together, his eyes angry but desperate, like a cornered animal about to fight its way out. 

“We can’t stop you,” Yeosang told him, voice flat. “But if you won’t let us take it, think about why we wouldn’t want you to, either.” His jaw flexed. “Hypocrisy is not the same thing as nobility, hyung.” 

Hongjoong was still for another moment, his entire frame shaking before he turned suddenly, storming from the warehouse, practically tearing the sheet off where it hung. 

Everyone was silent. 

Seonghwa hesitated only a moment before rushing after him silently. “Hongjoong!” they heard him call, Yeosang’s hand shaking slightly inside Wooyoung’s. 

That little tremor is what made Wooyoung truly begin to worry. 

~~~~~~~~

“Hongjoong!” 

Seonghwa caught his arm when he’d barely made it to the street, turning Hongjoong around who tore his sleeve out of Seonghwa’s hands, but stopping moving. 

He wasn’t glaring. 

He just looked lost. Tormented. 

“What the hell am I supposed to do, Seonghwa?” he demanded desperately, hitting his chest. “What else can I fucking do? It’s the first job I’ve gotten in  _ weeks- _ ” 

“They’re just worried about you,” Seonghwa reassured him quickly, hands hovering between them, afraid to touch. “You agreed with me before- it’s risky.” 

“We need  _ something _ ,” Hongjoong fought. “I can’t put my own comfort over their survival!” 

“This isn’t about comfort, Hongjoong,” he pressed. “You’re risking more than a few days rest or some jackets. You  _ know  _ this can’t end well.” 

“I have to do  _ something _ ,” he snapped, eyes afraid. “I have to- I  _ have  _ to get them out of here, I have to-” He gestured angrily to the warehouse. “Do you think they deserve to stay somewhere like  _ this _ ? I just- I just need to get us somewhere better-”

Seonghwa caught his flailing hand, and Hongjoong didn’t tear it away this time. “Hongjoong-” 

“I can’t just let them stay here,” he pushed, hand tugging on Seonghwa’s, but not to get away. “Seonghwa, I just need to get through this winter, after this winter we’ll be-” 

He cut himself off, lips locking together, eyes shattered. 

Sometimes, hope was all they had. Hongjoong hadn’t had real hope for a long time. 

“I have to do it,” Hongjoong whispered hoarsely. “Seonghwa, I don’t care if they hate me for it, I have to do it. I’m doing it for them.” 

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened. He and Hongjoong had already had this same argument moments before arriving at the warehouse. He’d been in line with Yeosang: this was crazy and dangerous and not worth it. Hongjoong had shut him down with that stupid stubbornness. 

Well, if Hongjoong was going to dig his heels in, Seonghwa could, too. 

“Then we’ll make sure you  _ can  _ do it,” Seonghwa said quietly, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand. He frowned, but Seonghwa pressed on. “I have some extra jackets in my closet and some boots-” 

“Seonghwa,” Hongjoong sighed, trying to pull his arm away, but Seonghwa held on tighter, pulling Hongjoong closer, clearly surprising him. 

His eyes were sharp. “Listen to me Hongjoong,” he practically hissed, not angry, but desperate. “Fight me all you want, I am  _ not  _ letting you die out here, understand?” 

Hongjoong stared at him, wide eyed. 

“I have an extra jacket and some boots,” Seonghwa repeated. “I can grab some gloves from my mother’s things-” 

“He’s never going to let that-” 

“Does it  _ look  _ like I care what my father thinks?” Seonghwa demanded, something cold filling his chest. “Just  _ take  _ the things I give, Hongjoong. Stop acting as if every act of kindness I do is putting me out of house and home!” 

Hongjoong blinked, surprised by the fierceness that suddenly flared, and Seonghwa would feel guilty if he didn’t need to act like this everytime he just wanted Hongjoong to understand. 

“If you truly want to help everyone, you  _ can’t  _ let yourself get sick, you  _ can’t  _ let yourself be put out of the game,” Seonghwa snapped. “You’re doing no one any favors killing yourself over this,  _ understand _ ?” 

Hongjoong stared, mouth open slightly, eyes searching Seonghwa’s face for something, flickering like a cornered animal. 

In the past, Hongjoong took on very little work during the winters. Everything slowed down with the holidays, and anywhere that needed extra help was mostly busy during the summers. Winters were their stagnant times, which is why this job meant so much. 

That being said, Seonghwa would drag each of them kicking and screaming to his house before letting Hongjoong kill himself over this. 

Hongjoong closed his mouth finally, eyes shining. “Fine,” he whispered, voice shot. “If that’s what you think is best.” 

“I think it would be best if you didn’t take the job at all,” Seonghwa said firmly. “But given your stubbornness, yes, I think this is the best option.” 

Hongjoong winced, swallowing thickly. “Fine,” he muttered. “I start next week.” 

Seonghwa loosened his hold on Hongjoong’s hand. “Thank you.” 

Hongjoong snorted. “For what? Letting you help?”

“Yes.” 

Hongjoong blinked, narrowing his eyes at Seonghwa slightly, lips rolling slightly before he turned away. “Don’t thank me for not being able to take care of myself.” 

Seonghwa’s chest twisted. “Hongjoong… truly, you are the only person on this earth who could ever find a way to say that about you.” 

Hongjoong did not look at him. 

~~~~~~~

“That was a little harsh, wasn’t it, Yeosang?” Yunho said, expression pinched with worry. None of them quite knew what to say in the silence that was left behind Hongjoong and Seonghwa. 

Yeosang set his jaw. “If he’s going to get himself killed, he’s going to know damn well why we never wanted it,” He whispered, voice a little hoarse. 

Wooyoung glanced at him, seeing something cracking inside his eyes, ready to shatter. He tightened his grip on Yeosang’s hand, tugging him towards the stairs. “Come on,” he whispered. “Let us know when Hongjoong gets back,” he called, pulling Yeosang up the stairs. 

“Seonghwa went after him,” he heard Mingi mutter. “He’ll be okay.” 

“Not if he goes through with this, he won’t,” Jongho said heavily. “Yeosang was harsh, but he’s right.” 

They lost the conversation as Wooyoung pulled Yeosang into their room, turning to face him, but Yeosang’s face was already buried in his chest, his trembling fingers twisted in Wooyoung’s shirt. 

“I’m not losing someone else,” Yeosang rasped quietly, slightly muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I’m- He’s going to get himself killed, Wooyoung, I can’t lose someone else-” 

Wooyoung pulled him closer, hugging him tightly, face being tickled by Yeosang’s hair as he buried his face in his neck, heart sinking. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be quite so scary, if their luck during the winters was different. But nearly every winter, all of them were falling ill every other week, sometimes with scratchy throats and sometimes with things that made them so fucking scared, they almost dragged them to a hospital to beg for someone to just  _ help them-  _

Things got harder during the winter- the snow, the ice, the cold,  _ everything _ . 

And as much as he seemed to think otherwise, Hongjoong got sick more than most of them. 

(He somehow still thought they didn’t notice him not eating periodically in favor of giving it to them, staying up late, getting up early, working himself to death with jobs that barely gave him enough to last them a few days.) 

“I can’t lose anyone else, Wooyoung,” Yeosang breathed, voice shaking dangerously. Wooyoung felt a slight dampness soak through his thin shirt, and that alone made his eyes sting as he shut them tightly, probably hurting Yeosang with how hard he held him, but Yeosang said nothing as his breaths shuddered. 

Wooyoung wished he was like Yeosang. That he could calculate and just let reassurances flow that didn’t sound like empty promises. But he was just as fucking scared.

But you couldn’t kill hope. 

“I can’t.” 

But the other person had to be stupid enough to believe that hope for it to work. 

“We aren’t gonna lose anyone,” Wooyoung said. 

It was empty. 

“We lasted this long, we aren’t going to lose anyone.” 

It was practically a lie. 

“Seonghwa isn’t going to let Hongjoong do anything stupid.” 

It was all he had to give. 


	2. You Are My Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write a 12k+ backstory for characters who are not supposed to be the main focus of this story? Yes. Yes I did. But it IS important information to have, so I feel no guilt!!   
> (This chapter does contain some blatant homophobia and a few references to homophobic slurs but they aren’t used often.)   
> Enjoy!   
> -SS

When Wooyoung first met Yeosang, they were 15 and Wooyoung was so  _ angry  _ at the world. 

Everything was dark and tight and uncomfortable, and he was just so angry at it all. 

Getting shoved into a big house with a bunch of other angry kids was never a good remedy for that. Especially not when you were 15 and knew what it was like to have parents, only to be shoved aside when they decided it was no longer worth it. The fights, the yells, the  _ disgrace- _

He was so angry and bitter, and everyone else was so  _ angry and bitter _ . He was the fresh meat here. Each glance from him was met with glares and sneers and shoves because no one cared and the only way to show it was by pushing around whatever person stepped too close to your space. 

People traded punches and vulgarities like they were the only currency you could deal in around here. 

Except one person. 

Yeosang stuck out like a sore thumb. Silent among the yells. Apathetic among the anger. Still as a statue among the shoves. He moved around the orphanage almost like a shadow, not quite there. 

And Wooyoung barely spoke a word to a single soul, until the day he asked about that weird kid pushing a skateboard in circles in the yard. 

Junhee glared at him when he first approached, but when Wooyoung muttered his question out of the corner of his mouth, he sneered. 

“Kang Yeosang,” he said, voice practically dripping icicles. “He’s the kid you’re gonna wanna stay the fuck away from if you don’t want your life here ruined.” 

Wooyoung snorted, looking at the boring seeming boy who just stared blankly at his feet as he rode around. “What, is he some delinquent?”

Junhee gave him a disgusted look. “You think anyone here gives a shit about if someone’s a menace?”

Yeosang didn’t seem like he even knew what it was to be bad. He just looked boring. 

“Then what’s so fucking bad about him?”

Junhee snorted. “What isn’t bad about him?” he laughed darkly. “He’s a loner for one. He’s a fucking weirdo, too. He just sits there and stares. One kid held a fucking lighter to his arm, and the kid didn’t say a word.” 

Wooyoung blinked, taken aback slightly. Jesus Christ. 

Junhee nodded. “He never says a fucking word. No matter what you tell him. There’s a point system going on for who can get him to talk most. I think that Daehyun kid is winning.” He scoffed, twisted and cruel. “All he does is sit around staring and riding his skateboard. He’s been here for fucking years, man.” 

Wooyoung stared at him. Maybe he didn’t think that those were necessarily crimes, but he had enough bruises from minding his own business. He didn’t want to think about what was going to happen if he started feeling bad for the kid. 

Feeling bad for someone had no place here. Not when it was every man for himself. Wooyoung was out to survive. 

“He’s a fucking freak, too,” Junhee said, dropping his voice, as if there was anyone around to hear them. “A total other hitter, you know?” 

Wooyoung frowned, tearing his eyes away from the lone boy. “A what?”

Junhee looked at him like he was fucking stupid, antogonizing and derogatory. “God, you’re an idiot. He’s fucking batting for the other team, dumbass.” 

Wooyoung’s hand twitched as he went very still. “You mean he’s gay.” 

“Whatever the fuck you wanna call it,” he scoffed, spitting on the ground. “Just stay the fuck away from Kang Yeosang if you don’t want to end up like him, got it?”

Wooyoung didn’t know what that meant, seeing as Yeosang was seemingly alone and unbothered. 

It wasn’t until a couple of days later that Wooyoung found out exactly what that threat meant. He had only ever seen Yeosang from a distance, riding on the sidewalk or sitting underneath trees and staring at nothing. 

He walked out into the courtyard one morning, and found three boys gathered in a circle, with one other pinning Yeosang down, punching him across the face. 

Wooyoung kept still, staring at the scene as the boy punched him again. 

Yeosang’s cheek was red and bruised, a little trickle of blood leaking from his nose. 

The boys were jeering, calling the boy’s name and yelling for Yeosang to fight back. 

Yeosang laid there, staring at the boy. 

Wooyoung’s blood felt icy, watching Yeosang stare at the boy, as disinterested as he stared at the grass from underneath his trees. He looked at the boy as if he wasn’t even there. As if Yeosang were simply counting down the seconds until this whole inconvenience was over. As if Yeosang cared nothing for what they did to him. 

His hands were balled into fists where the boy held them down. That was the only indication that this had any effect on him at all. 

Even when the boy let go of Yeosang’s hands, grabbing a fistful of his hair, Yeosang only winced the smallest bit, eyebrows tightening and then relaxing as the boy spit in his face. Even with his hands free, they just remained limp at his side. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” the boy growled, teeth gritted. 

Yeosang stared on in silence. 

Wooyoung turned away and went back inside, heading towards the sitting room, instead. He didn’t think about the incident. Not because he felt bad. But because it pissed him off to think about it for some reason, and he didn’t feel like getting into anymore fights this week. 

The next day, however… 

There was Junhee and a couple other boys. 

And there was Yeosang, pinned to the wall by his hair, his expression pinched, but no less apathetic than ever. Even though his hands were free… he did nothing. 

Wooyoung wondered if he liked getting his ass beat. Or if he just knew he was outnumbered. 

He turned to go back inside- 

“Hey, Wooyoung!” Junhee yelled, and he froze. “You want a turn?” 

Wooyoung swallowed the bitterness in the back of his mouth, opening his lips to pass out some excuse about letting them have the fun- 

Yeosang looked at him. 

He wasn’t glaring. Wasn’t angry, but his eyes bored into Wooyoung’s, despite the dullness to them. Wooyoung felt like he was pinned in place. 

“What- don’t tell me you’re not game for it?” one of the other boys jeered. 

Fuck. 

Wooyoung was not about to become the body getting beaten beside this stranger. 

“Sure,” he said, mouth like ash as he walked forward. Yeosang’s eyes followed him, feeling like a physical weight against him. Wooyoung didn’t look at him. 

He didn’t feel bad for him. Maybe Yeosang should stop doing things that pissed everyone off. Maybe he should just… 

Wooyoung stood in front of him, staring at Yeosang’s bruised arms, and ripped jeans that showed off scabbed knees. His hand balled into a fist, and he drew it back- 

“What are you boys doing?” the head adult’s voice called. 

“Shit,” Junhee cursed, dropping Yeosang, and the group of them ran off. 

Wooyoung did not look back. But he could feel Yeosang’s eyes on him. 

~~~~~~

The rock that hit his arm came out of nowhere. 

Yeosang winced at the sharp pain, lifting his eyes to find one of the boys he never bothered learning the name of lowering his arm, looking triumphant. 

Wooyoung beside him threw his stone as well, catching Yeosang’s chest. 

The boy spit in the dirt, shouldering into Wooyoung and telling him to come on. 

The next rock that flew at him came as he was riding his board on the basketball court, catching him just above his eye. And even Yeosang’s stoicism didn’t hold against the fear of being blinded as he cupped his hands over the throbbing pain that stained his hands red. He stumbled off of his board, letting his knees hit the ground that probably broke the skin. 

“Holy shit, Wooyoung did it!” one of the boys cheered. “He just freaked the fuck out!” 

Yeosang listened to them cheer as he continued to press against the cut that poured blood into his eye, breathing heavily around the pain. 

Yeosang waited for them to gain confidence from Wooyoung’s victory is getting him to break, and only seconds later, a foot slammed into his back, forcing him to release his eye to catch himself on the asphalt, hands stinging. 

They laughed. 

Yeosang kept one eye squeezed shut, but slowly lifted his head. 

Wooyoung stared at him, expression as hard as the concrete tearing Yeosang’s hand. He didn’t cheer with the others, eyes cold as Yeosang met them. 

Wooyoung looked away, letting the boys clap him on the shoulder. 

They wandered away, one more boy kicking Yeosang’s leg hard, and then Yeosang was alone, with just his throbbing body and bleeding forehead. 

He got up, legs shaking, but managed to stand, taking his board with him as he limped back towards the house. The only place for him was the bathroom as he washed the blood away, gritting his teeth against the sting of it. 

His eye was safe, but there was a jagged cut at his eyebrow. 

Any lower, and it would not have been as fortunate. 

He rinsed his stinging hands, and brushed off his throbbing knee, knowing he could do nothing about the bruise on his thigh. He took his board back to his room, hiding it between his mattress and the wall as he laid down. His three roommates were still out. It wasn’t even dinner time. 

He stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep. 

~~~~~~~

“Hey,” Junhee whispered to Wooyoung at breakfast, grinning broadly. “Me and the guys had an idea.” 

Wooyoung had had enough of their fucking ideas. 

As much as Yeosang’s apathy pissed him off, these assholes were beginning to piss him off more. But Wooyoung was here to survive until he turned eighteen, and then he was getting the hell out of here. He was not spending the next three years as an entire orphanage’s personal punching bag. 

But he nodded. “Lay it on me.” 

Junhee snickered. “It’s so fucking good, dude. This is gonna break that fucker’s face in.” 

Wooyoung simply hummed curiously, eating a bite of his eggs. 

“I already talked to the others, and they all almost threw up at the thought, but I think you’re someone who would do it just to wipe that smug shit off Kang’s face.” 

Wooyoung frowned. “What?” he asked carefully. “I’m not doing anything that’s gonna get me kicked out of here.” 

Of course, nothing short of shanking Yeosang in his sleep would ever get him thrown out, but he wouldn’t put it past them to suggest it. 

Junhee laughed, like he couldn’t contain the excitement of it all. 

“How good are you at acting?” 

~~~~~~

Yeosang was in his room. As he always was at dinner time. 

God help him if he ever tried to enter into the dining hall when anyone else was in there. He had learned that on Week One. 

His roommates never returned until late at night, pushing or surpassing curfew everytime. 

So he started quietly when he heard his door being pushed open. He sat up in his bed quickly, eyes trained on the door blankly. 

Yeosang couldn’t help the smallest frown that pulled at his eyebrows as Wooyoung leaned against the doorframe, expression a carefully crafted neutral that even Yeosang couldn’t interpret. 

Yeosang knew that Wooyoung was dangerous. Because he wasn’t like the others. His motives were not so blatant. Not so easy to learn. And that made him a threat. 

Yeosang stayed very still. 

Wooyoung waited a few moments, as if to see if Yeosang would do anything. “Hey,” he said easily. 

Yeosang didn’t move. 

Wooyoung stepped inside, and Yeosang wondered if he was just going to throw him on the ground himself. He had yet to take the initiative on his own, without the others’ goading. Yeosang honestly thought that Wooyoung was more the follower. 

Wooyoung chuckled, lips curling. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked, as if this was a regular conversation. 

He took another couple of steps forward, and Yeosang stood slowly. He wanted to tell him to get out. That he wasn’t allowed in here, it wasn’t his room. 

He remained silent. 

Wooyoung stopped a couple of steps from Yeosang. His posture was not aggressive, but Yeosang already knew that didn’t mean a thing. The worst attacks were not always with strength. 

“You know,” Wooyoung said quietly, glancing behind himself. “You do know the reason Junhee and the others shit on you, right?” 

Yeosang made no move. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. That was all they wanted. 

“Well, first of all, it’s because you do shit like that,” Wooyoung snorted. “Just stand there and staring, as if you’re above it all. It really pisses people off.” His eyes trailed up and down Yeosang’s frame, and Yeosang felt something inside of him shift uncomfortably. “And the other reason… is that there’s a thread on the grapevine… ” He glanced up through his lashes. “That you’re gay.” 

Yeosang continued to stare at him. 

Wooyoung huffed, blowing hair out of his eyes. “Quit staring like you’re unaffected. You’re probably shitting your pants right now.” He turned away, rolling his eyes. 

Yeosang knew where this was going. He had been here before. 

Wooyoung strolled back to the door slowly. “It’s okay, though,” he said quietly, and he closed the door gently. He turned back to Yeosang, expression amused and curved around the edges. 

Almost flirtatious. 

“I am, too,” Wooyoung said as he stepped forward, voice dropping lower. 

“I know.” 

Got him. 

Wooyoung’s steps stuttered, his sultry eyes flickering to panic and fear as he took a step back before catching himself, expression slamming closed like the doors of a vault hiding away something valuable. 

Wooyoung opened his mouth, closed it, and Yeosang almost felt satisfaction at the reaction. Not even ten seconds, and apparently Wooyoung had abandoned whatever reason he came here for. 

“I- I’m not-” Wooyoung glanced around, as if he was the one cornered. “I- I’m not actually gay,” he snapped. “What the fuck do you mean ‘I know’?” he spat. “The others sent me in here to fuck with you, I’m not-” 

“I heard Mr. Kim talking about you,” Yeosang said, voice flat and unbothered. “A boy they were taking in because his mother kicked him out,” he said gently. “For coming out to her.” 

Wooyoung stared at him, mouth open, and something like pure fear in his eyes. 

Part of Yeosang felt triumph. Let him feel how it feels for a while. 

The bigger part of him just felt sad. 

“I take Junhee and them don’t know, then?”

Wooyoung ran at him, the insecurity turning to anger, as it always did, and Yeosang did nothing as he grabbed him by the collar, pushing him up against the wall. 

Wooyoung kissed him hard enough to hurt, and Yeosang had nowhere to go. 

Wooyoung bit at and bruised his lip, pressing Yeosang against the wall- 

Yeosang shoved him away. 

Wooyoung stumbled back, mouth red as he wiped at it, anger and fury crackling in his eyes as he glared at Yeosang with such disgust. 

“What?” Wooyoung snapped. “Am I not your fucking type? You think you’re privileged enough to be that picky?”

Yeosang stared at him, eyes hard, but expression lax. 

“Fuck you,” Wooyoung spat, taking another step towards him. “Do you really expect me to believe your fucking stoicism? You want to fucking rip my fucking dick off right now, don’t you?” 

Yeosang said nothing. 

Wooyoung grabbed him by his shirt again, anger burning and raging and- 

Hiding. 

“Answer me, you fucking-” 

Wooyoung cut himself off, choking on the word, and Yeosang saw another crack appear in the anger. 

“You hesitated.” 

Wooyoung flinched, teeth gritted. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Before,” Yeosang said quietly, voice flat and vacant. “When you joined in with them. When they dragged you along. You always hesitated. Before you hit me.” 

Now, it was Wooyoung who was silent. He seemed so  _ angry _ . Yeosang would feel bad for him. 

“Say it,” Yeosang told him calmly. “Whatever you were going to say before. Finish it.” 

Wooyoung’s hand shook, teeth looking ready crack as he bore into Yeosang’s uninterested eyes. 

“Faggot?” Yeosang finished. “Is that what you were going to say?” Wooyoung’s frame shook violently. “Why did you stop? Is that what your family called y-” 

Wooyoung’s fist caught Yeosang across the cheek as he shoved him away, and Yeosang hit the ground hard, head spinning- 

Wooyoung kicked him over until Yeosang’s back hit the ground. 

“Fuck you,” he spat. 

Yeosang stared up at him, chest aching, but someone as scared as Wooyoung couldn’t silence someone was unbothered as Yeosang. Wooyoung’s abuses were child’s play compared to the others. 

“You’re not like the others.” 

“If you say another word, I’m going to beat you until you can’t fucking move,” Wooyoung snapped. 

“Are you trying so hard to fit in among them so they don’t ask questions?” Yeosang questioned quietly. “Does it feel good? Becoming the same people who put you here?”

Wooyoung dragged him up by his shirt, and Yeosang still did nothing. 

He didn’t hit him. 

“If you say a  _ fucking word _ to them-” 

“I wouldn’t,” Yeosang murmured. “I don’t become the people I despise. I find it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.” 

Wooyoung’s hand shook, like he was about to fall apart at the seams, breathing irregular. 

“You’re not like the others.” 

“Why?” he demanded, shirt twisting in his fists. “Because I’m fucking gay?” 

“No,” Yeosang said, trailing his eyes over him. “Because you regret it.” 

Wooyoung dropped Yeosang as if he had been burned, stepping away from him as Yeosang caught himself, watching him. 

“ _ Fuck you _ ,” Wooyoung spat, looking trapped despite having the door right behind him. 

“Why are you still here, Wooyoung?” he questioned flatly. “You obviously failed in whatever act they thought you were capable of. You’re not hitting me. You’re not even threatening me anymore. You’re just standing here.” 

Wooyoung finally cracked, and Yeosang could see the fear there. 

“Why haven’t you gone back and told them you failed yet?” he asked. 

Wooyoung took a step backwards. 

“What are you scared of most?” Yeosang asked, eyes tracing over the fear-lines. “What they’ll do if they find out? Or what you’re becoming?”

Wooyoung jerked towards him, like he intended to attack, but something in his expression cracked. 

Yeosang’s expression was flat.“Go,” he said quietly. “Tell them you got your kiss or whatever it was they sent you in here to do. Maybe I’ll even play along and act angry with you next time I see you.” 

Yeosang blinked, and Wooyoung was gone, the door left ajar. 

He wiped at his mouth distastefully, his skin crawling slightly. 

Wooyoung… was not like the others. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous. 

~~~~~~~

Wooyoung didn’t go outside. He stayed within his room or the sitting room, and he avoided all the others like the plague after he told them he got Yeosang to fall for him, only to tug the rug out from under him. 

He felt like he was going to vomit. 

He glanced out the window once, and saw two of the boys cornering Yeosang. 

He looked away. 

For three days, Wooyoung spoke to no one, anxiety and fear crawling up his throat and threatening to make him choke. 

Yeosang… 

He didn’t sit well with Wooyoung. It was like… like he knew too much. Like he was staring into Wooyoung’s mind and picking apart all his secrets, holding them above his head and threatening to drop them. 

“Wooyoung!” 

A hand grabbed his arm, yanking him out of his seat and hauling him towards the door. “Come on!” one of the boys cackled. “Junhee is gonna make Yeosang fucking flip!” 

Wooyoung tried to pull back, but they were already shoving him through the door to the courtyard, and Wooyoung burst outside just in time to see Junhee shove Yeosang to the ground, his skateboard rolling a couple feet away. 

Yeosang slowly looked back up, expression unmoved, until Junhee suddenly grabbed the board from the ground. 

Wooyoung saw Yeosang’s eyes widen, and so did everyone else. 

One of the boys cackled, pointing at Yeosang who sat up on his knees quickly. “Look at him!” It was the most permanent expression Yeosang had ever had. 

Junhee grinned, holding the board between his hands. “What- this thing is what gets you riled up?” he taunted, flipping the board. “This piece of shit? It looks like it’s ready to fall apart on its own.” 

“Put it down.” 

Everyone ‘oooh’ed and ‘aww’ed as Yeosang spoke, barely a whisper. 

Wooyoung expected to see anger in Yeosang’s eyes. A fire or desire to finally return everything they had done to him. Instead, he saw only a wide eyed fear. 

Junhee gasped. “He speaks!” 

Yeosang rose up onto his feet. “Put my board down.” It was probably supposed to be demanding, but it was barely a whisper, something desperate tinged. 

Junhee flipped the board again, expression like he was considering it. 

“Junhee,” Yeosang said, voice harder as he took a step forward. “ _ Put my board down _ . Now-” 

“ _ Whatever _ ,” Junhee sighed, tossing the board onto the ground. 

Wooyoung realized what Junhee was going to do just as Yeosang did, the other boy diving for the ground as Junhee slammed his foot down on the center of the board. Wood splintered and snapped. 

Yeosang froze, not even halfway to the broken object, staring at it with disbelief in his eyes. 

Wooyoung felt something twist in his chest as Yeosang stared, first as if he couldn’t believe it, and then his expression twisting as the weight of it settled on his shoulders. 

He dropped to the ground slowly, reaching out with shaking hands towards the broken board- 

“Look at him, he’s gonna fucking cry!” 

Junhee laughed gleefully, looking like this was the day he had been waiting for, walking over to Yeosang and drawing his foot back threateningly. “Fucking f-” 

Yeosang lunged at the boy. 

Junhee clearly didn’t expect the attack. Wooyoung didn’t either. The two of them went toppling, and Wooyoung expected to finally see the anger bursting out of Yeosang, finally snapping under the months of torment- 

But Yeosang’s face wasn’t angry. 

It was sad.

Desperate, as he grabbed at Junhee. As if his actions would fix the broken board. 

But even Yeosang reaching his breaking point was useless against three other boys. 

They tore him off of Junhee, throwing him back onto the concrete, and Yeosang wasn’t even visible where they gathered around him. 

Wooyoung turned away, his stomach rolling as he ignored one of the boys calling his name. 

He went to his room and didn’t leave. 

He didn’t sleep. 

He refused to leave the next morning, claiming a stomach ache that wasn’t imaginary at all. 

He stayed in his bed, pacing his room, until afternoon came, and everything became too much, and he had to leave. 

He was going to fucking throw up, and it was all that fucker’s fault. 

But all he did was head two halls down, to the fourth door, and stood outside it. 

It was ajar, but he stood out of view for a full minute before he swallowed and shoved it open roughly. 

Yeosang sat on his bed, staring at the ground as he clutched his arms around two halves of a skateboard, expression as blank as freshly fallen snow, and just as cold. 

His arm was a rainbow of bruises, his lip was clotted with blood, and his cheek was swollen. 

Yeosang didn’t look at him, still clutching the board. Wooyoung suddenly didn’t know what he was doing here. There was only silence and space between them. 

His eyes were hollow. Dull and lifeless with his cheeks tear stained and red. 

Maybe even before, Wooyoung was annoyed by Yeosang’s apathy. But somehow there was no satisfaction in this moment of seeing him at his lowest. 

“Why do you do it?” Wooyoung asked, voice tinged dark. “They’d leave you the fuck alone if you didn’t give them a fucking game to play. You sit there like it doesn’t affect you, and that only makes them want to hurt you more to get a reaction- it’s your own fucking fault!” His voice rose to a shout that he hadn’t planned, but it felt justified. 

Yeosang didn’t look at him. And when he spoke, it was soft and crackly from hours of crying. “They’re going to do it regardless of my reaction,” he murmured, eyes far away. “I won’t give them the satisfaction of thinking they get to me.” His voice was darker, but still as level as smoothed glass. His arms tightened around the snapped board. “You’re an idiot if you think just because I cried, they’ll stop.” 

Wooyoung knew he was right. But he still kept glaring, kept trying to be angry because.. 

Because he didn’t know how to be anything else. 

“Why would you cry over a stupid skateboard anyway?” he demanded, voice cruel, even if he didn’t want it to be. “That’s the least fucking thing they’ve ever done to you.” 

Yeosang finally moved, his eyes dropping until they landed on the board clutched in his arms. “This was my last thing from home,” he whispered. “I got it for my birthday.” 

He sounded near tears again. 

This time, Wooyoung’s scoff was genuine. “Why the fuck would you ever cry over something from such a shit place?” His own mind twisted with the darkness that his own house had emanated. 

Yeosang looked over at him, glaring dark and angry. “Not all of us are here because our shit parents didn’t want us,” he spat. 

Wooyoung’s fist clenched. “Shut the fuck up, you don’t know anything.” 

“Neither do you,” Yeosang said, setting the piece of board down on his bed and standing, anger evident in every line of his body. “Unlike you, my parents actually  _ wanted  _ me. I wound up in this fucking hell hole because some drunk driver thought it would be funny to play  _ chicken  _ at a cross walk in the  _ fucking rain _ .” 

His voice never rose to a shout. But it echoed loudly in the silence. Wooyoung wanted to hit him. To hurt him, because Yeosang was hurting him, and turn about was fair play- 

Yeosang wasn’t stoic now. He was angry. He was sad. He was broadcasting every emotion like a fucking beacon in a thunderstorm, calling everyone’s attention. 

“Do you think it would have been any better if I had begged them to stop?” Yeosang demanded. “Are you honestly stupid enough to believe that they have any real issue with the fact I don’t give them a reaction? It wouldn’t matter if I begged and screamed or remained completely silent. They think I’m a fucking freak because I’m like you.” 

Wooyoung flinched. “I’m not-” 

The words died in his throat, and it just made him  _ angrier _ . Yeosang glared passively. 

“The only thing keeping you from becoming me is that fact that you haven’t been here long enough to trust someone with your secret, only to have them spill it the first chance they get.” 

Yeosang’s voice was too bitter. 

Yeosang had that secret, though. Wooyoung’s secret. And he had said he wouldn’t spill it, and Wooyoung had just… trusted that. Well. It was more like he had been too pissed off and concerned about other things to really think about it but- 

Yeosang had every right and way to ruin Wooyoung. 

To gain revenge and take him down with him. To finally get back at him for joining those boys, to make someone else feel what it was like- 

But, unless the others were biding their time (unlikely), Yeosang hadn’t told anyone. 

His jaw flexed. “You apparently have that secret,” he said darkly. “Why haven’t you spilled it?” 

Yeosang’s glare melted slightly, into something softer, but still razor sharp. 

“It’s not my secret to tell,” Yeosang said flatly. “I told you before, I don’t become the people I hate.” He looked away. “Besides, as if I had someone to tell.” 

Wooyoung’s mouth tasted funny. “Who did you tell yours to, then? Who were you  _ stupid enough  _ to trust?” 

Yeosang huffed. “He’s long gone,” he muttered, staring out the window as if he could see the boy now. “He turned 18 right when I showed up, but he was nice to me, so I trusted him like a fucking idiot.” He was glaring again, but it was more self-anger this time. “He spread it around, and then walked out without ever looking back to see what he did.” 

His hand curled into a fist. 

Wooyoung felt a little sick. He tried to bring back the anger, to scoff and tell Yeosang to just run away if it was that bad, but it felt like trying to strike a wet match. The friction was there, he could feel a spark, but nothing would catch. 

There was nothing either of them could say, so they just sat in silence. Wooyoung kept trying, he wanted to be angry, he wanted to yell or hit him because he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do- 

“You don’t have to worry about me saying anything,” Yeosang said finally, turning back to his bed and sitting down heavily. “They’ve already broken the last thing I had. Any sort of satisfaction I might have once gotten from ruining you is gone.” He picked up one half of the board, staring at it like something treasured that had been broken. 

“Just go,” Yeosang said quietly. “Unless you’re going to hit me or something… stop wasting our time.” He sounded like a grey color scale, splashed against a canvas and trying to convince everyone it was a rainbow. 

So Wooyoung turned, and he left. 

He heard Yeosang take a shaking breath that sounded too close to tears. 

He sounded so alone. 

And Wooyoung physically punched himself in the chest when he felt his heart twist, almost in sympathy. Stop it. This isn’t what’s going to help you survive this fucking hell. 

It was every man for himself. Wooyoung couldn’t afford to start pitying the bottom of the food chain. 

The next day, Wooyoung saw the boys cornering Yeosang up against a wall. 

And whereas before, Yeosang would stare them in the eyes impassively, his head simply hung low. And when they grabbed his hair to force him to look up, he almost looked like he wasn’t seeing anything. 

It was like they were beating a corpse. 

And the next day, they shoved him down the stairs, where he only caught himself halfway down, holding his side, but still keeping his head bowed. He said nothing, not a single word, even as they kicked him down another five steps. 

And the next day. 

And the next. 

Wooyoung stopped going over. Stopped trying to fit in with the others, and sulked to the background. 

He tried to stop watching. Watching made it seem like he cared. Watching was dangerous. Because watching meant looking at Yeosang and knowing that he did feel things. But refused to let them know that he did. 

He wondered if he felt anger towards them. Or if it was just a desire to make it stop. Maybe he did feel nothing. Maybe after years, it just turned to apathy. 

Until one day, Wooyoung walked along the side of the orphanage, trailing his hand along the brick, and he turned the corner, finding the familiar sight of four boys gathered in a jeering circle. 

He froze, staring at the sight that made his chest heavy, and he went to turn away, pushing off of the wall because he couldn’t deal with that today- 

But he caught a glimpse, through the forest of legs, of the body laying on the ground, and it was pure chance that Wooyoung actually caught a glimpse as one of the legs moved back to kick at it. 

And Yeosang… Yeosang wasn’t just laying there anymore. 

He curled around his vulnerable stomach, eyes clenched shut with his teeth bared in pain. 

When one of the boys kicked his stomach, Wooyoung could hear his cry from this far. He flinched. 

“-say it again, fucker,” the boy snapped. “I want you to fucking tell me  _ one more fucking time _ .” 

Yeosang was shoved onto his back, a pained hiss that turned into a cough that sounded like it was tearing his throat- 

“F-Fuck off,” Yeosang coughed, cracking his eyes open that danced with pain, not anger. 

The next foot caught him across the face, and Wooyoung was more concerned by his silence than if he had screamed. 

“Hear that?” the boy laughed. “Guys, he wants us to fuck off! The little bitch is finally standing up for himself!” Yeosang held a hand out weakly, like trying to shield himself pitifully. One boy kicked the hand away, and Yeosang cried out, curling it against his chest. 

Wooyoung flinched. 

The boys laughed. 

“He’s actually fucking crying!” 

_ The only thing keeping you from becoming me… _

“I wonder if he’ll actually try and hit us?”

_ I don’t become the people I hate _ . 

“If he can fucking move after this.”

_ Get the fuck out of this house! _

“Hey, maybe we can see if fags bleed like the rest of us!” 

Wooyoung… didn’t remember… thinking. 

He didn’t think.

He didn’t feel anything. 

He was just suddenly across the courtyard, and the boy was screaming underneath him as his fists wailed against his face. 

And when the others tried to drag him off, Wooyoung kicked one so hard in the crotch, he fell to the ground, and the other bent over his fist as he buried it deep, hearing him retch against the ground- 

The last boy was running away. 

Wooyoung kicked both of them over. 

“Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled, shoving them into the grass and watching as they scrambled, clutching their injuries. “Get the fuck out- and if you  _ fucking touch  _ him again, I’ll put you six feet underneath your parents!” 

They ran around the edge of the house. Wooyoung’s fist ached as he dug nail crescents into his palm. 

He felt like he was going to throw up. 

He heard shifting behind him, and he turned, seeing Yeosang curling around his stomach, breathing heavily as blood dripped from his mouth. 

Wooyoung stared at him. 

He wanted to leave him. To turn and walk back to the house and leave him because that was the easy to thing to do. 

The survival thing to do. 

Wooyoung stepped over to Yeosang slowly, his feet dragging against the concrete. 

Yeosang opened one eye, trying to see Wooyoung without being able to move. There was something like fear in his eyes, asking a clear question to Wooyoung. 

_ What are you going to do to me?  _

Wooyoung sighed, rubbing at his face. “Come on, asshole,” he muttered, squatting down and holding a hand out. 

Yeosang stared at the hand, his face smeared with blood that leaked from his nose and mouth. God, even Wooyoung hadn’t gotten beaten that bad in a fight in a long time. Yeosang’s hand twitched, shifting towards Wooyoung, but it stopped halfway, Yeosang squeezing his eyes shut and breath coming faster. 

Apparently, it hurt a fucking lot. 

Wooyoung sighed. “Motherfucking pain in my goddamn ass, I should leave you here for the Head to find you.” 

His hands still grabbed Yeosang’s arms. 

“Try not to scream, alright?” Wooyoung huffed, grabbing Yeosang’s arms and pulling him up. 

There was a loud hitch in breath, and Yeosang’s fingers scraped against Wooyoung’s arms as he flinched, but Wooyoung ignored it, twisting around until Yeosang rested against his back. “You’re gonna have to help, asshole,” he snapped. 

Yeosang took a wet breath, pushing himself up with a pained whimper as he rose up high enough for Wooyoung to grab his arms and pull him against his back. 

Wooyoung expected to have to comment on Yeosang’s weight, but the boy against his back weighed  _ nothing _ . Wooyoung had carried bookbags that weighed more than him. He felt dainty under Wooyoung’s hand. 

Breakable. 

Yeosang’s breaths were loud in his ear, each step he took drawing out a cut-off noise of pain that Yeosang seemed desperate to swallow. 

Wooyoung walked slowly, both to keep an eye out for those boys coming back with reinforcements, and because Yeosang’s pained noises were getting annoying. 

(They made Wooyoung’s chest feel weird, so he tried not to make him make them.) 

“Told… you,” Yeosang whispered, voice shot and breathy. 

Wooyoung sighed, rolling his eyes. “Told me what?” 

“It didn’t… matter,” he said, head resting against Wooyoung’s back. “Even if I try… to fight back. They… win every… time.” 

Wooyoung shook his head, holding back a scoff. 

“You’re an idiot for trying to stand up to them by  _ yourself _ . You’re one scrawny punk against four brutes.” 

Yeosang swallowed, and Wooyoung felt him gag a little. If he fucking threw up on him- 

“As if… anyone would stand with me,” Yeosang murmured, words slurring a little. Do not fucking pass out. He swallowed again, taking a sharp breath. “I just… I just wanted… it to… stop.” 

Wooyoung paused his walking, jarring Yeosang enough for him to bite his tongue on the cry that tried to climb out. He clenched his teeth, jaw aching. “Well, you saw how well that worked out,” he muttered. 

The only thing keeping you from becoming me… 

“I never… expected to win,” Yeosang whispered as Wooyoung climbs the steps to the back door. “I just… just wanted to be- be able to say that I… that I did something. That I… fought back… just once.” 

His voice wavered in a way that Wooyoung was sure was with tears. 

He was not about to deal with this crying asshole on his back. 

Wooyoung looked at the stairs they had to climb and sighed, but started the trek. Only one person tried to go down them, but Wooyoung sent one glare at them, and they ran off with a squeak. 

Wooyoung headed straight to his room. 

He dumped Yeosang onto his bed, ignoring (pointedly) the gasp of pain he let out, curling around his stomach. Wooyoung ignored him, going to his drawer and pulling out the little plastic bag he had stashed there. 

Yeosang stared at him through a swollen eye. “Wh… You keep… first aid?” 

Wooyoung hummed, not looking at him as he knelt beside the bed. “Gotta stitch yourself up somehow after a fight.” 

“You fight… a lot?” 

Wooyoung glanced up, eyes icy. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

“I would.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head as he pulled out a rag. “Well, you see, as a teen, I have a lot of pent up rage that I don’t know how to express in a peaceful manner-” 

“Because y-you’re gay?” 

Wooyoung’s eyes snapped up to Yeosang who stared at him fearlessly. As if he wasn’t aware that he was currently crippled in Wooyoung’s bed. “If you keep talking like that, I’ll break whatever they didn’t,” he snapped. 

Yeosang didn’t seem to care. “Why… won’t you say it? Because… you parents-?” 

“You’re doing an awful lot of talking for someone whose ribs are probably fucked up,” Wooyoung spat. “How about you stop doing that before I leave you here to bleed out.” 

Yeosang stared at him. 

And Wooyoung felt… scolded. Humiliated. Like  _ he  _ was the one being an idiot. He looked away, grabbing the ice pack and breaking it to start it cooling off. Yeosang didn’t say another word as he went about, pressing the ice pack to his face and telling him to hold it. 

He cleaned up the broken skin from the concrete and hits, bandaging what he could. 

He was pushing Yeosang’s shirt up, examining the bruises on his ribs, when he saw his chest stutter. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, voice flat but genuine. 

Wooyoung glanced up at him for the first time since he began, and saw pink staining his pillow as tears dragged the faintest color of blood down his cheeks. 

Wooyoung wanted to ignore him. But he stared. “For what, asshole?” he demanded. 

Yeosang didn’t open his eyes, but his hand flexed into a loose fist. 

“Anyone else… would have left me there.” 

“I would have too,” Wooyoung fought. “If you didn’t look so fucking pitiful.” 

“I told you… you’re not like them,” Yeosang whispered. “Even if you’re angry… you’re not like them.” He swallowed painfully. 

Wooyoung grit his teeth until it hurt, and he turned away. “Shut the fuck up.” 

They were both silent. 

When Wooyoung was finished, Yeosang didn’t open his eyes, his chest rising and falling quietly. The asshole just had to fall asleep in Wooyoung’s bed. Fucking great. Well, he was gonna have to be gone by nighttime because Wooyoung was not going to explain the outcast sleeping in his bed. 

Right when evening was turning to night, Wooyoung shook Yeosang awake, ignoring how he jolted slightly, hissing as he clutched at his stomach. 

“Go,” Wooyoung said flatly. “You’re not sleeping here.” 

Yeosang stared at him for a moment before struggling his way into a sitting position, pulling himself up with a lot of pained hisses and winces. Once standing, he stared at Wooyoung, eyes cold and intense, but not angry. 

“Thank you,” he said again. Quiet. Genuine. What a fucking sissy. 

Wooyoung scoffed. “Just get out before someone finds you here. I’m not fucking explaining that.” 

Yeosang left silently, limping heavily as he leaned on the walls to support him, stumbling here and there. 

Wooyoung did not go to help him. 

Yeosang disappeared, and Wooyoung went back to bed, pulling his bloodied sheets off and throwing them onto the ground as he laid down, curling towards the wall. 

He was so fucking stupid. But even he didn’t realize the consequences of his actions. 

Because he was a fucking idiot to think that just because he made Yeosang go back to his own room, that his name wasn’t going to be all over the fucking orphanage as the boy who stood up for the outcast.

Junhee slammed his back against a wall, hand twisted tightly in his hair, like he wanted to rip it out. 

“Did I hear correctly?” he hissed as Wooyoung grasped at his hand, trying to pull it away. “You helped that fucking freak?”

Wooyoung’s teeth ground together at the pain as Junhee slammed his head back against the wall. 

“What did I say?” he snapped. “You stay the fuck away from him unless you want to wind up like him!” 

The only thing keeping you from becoming me… 

Wooyoung brought him knee up harshly, slamming it against Junhee’s stomach as the boy choked, doubling over as Wooyoung punched him across the jaw hard enough to hurt his own hand, Junhee stumbling away and holding his cheek with both hands. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat, eyes like knives. “I don’t give a shit what you think I should do. I stuck around with you because it was what  _ I  _ wanted to do. And now? I’m bored of your fucking games, Junhee.” 

Junhee got to his feet, rushing towards him, and it turned into a wrestling match of strength as their hands tried to grab whatever they could, fists flying at every opening- 

The Head pulled them apart, yelling profanities and raging promises in their ears as he tore them apart. 

Wooyoung glared at Junhee who spit out the blood leaking from his mouth. Wooyoung licked at his split lip, feeling a throb of pain in the back of his skull, but he refused to grimace. 

He wouldn’t give Junhee the satisfaction. 

~~~~~~

Wooyoung was sitting alone in the yard, his lip still bloodied and a bag of ice pressed to the corner of his eye. 

Yeosang stood before him, Wooyoung glaring up at him through the eye he could see through. 

He swallowed thickly, hands twisted slightly, the only visible sign of his inner turmoil. His face was as bland as always, even as he tried to get it to show sincerity. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, not quite meeting Wooyoung’s eyes. 

Wooyoung snorted, drawing his attention back as he shift the ice pack. “Kinda late for that now.” 

Yeosang felt ill. “I didn’t mean for you to get involved,” he murmured, hoping that Wooyoung believed him because he was being honest. 

Wooyoung glared at him, and Yeosang waited for the spat and profanities, but Wooyoung simply glared like a fire being pressed to his skin, burning Yeosang for his idiocy, but then he dropped his eyes, still twisted with annoyance. 

“I got myself involved,” he muttered under his breath, scoffing bitterly. “I made the decision to try and help you. That was my own fault.” He pressed the ice pack to his lip for a moment. 

Yeosang felt guilt climb his throat. He didn’t wish his own situation on anyone. Not even someone like Wooyoung. Especially not someone like Wooyoung, who wasn’t like the others. He truly hadn’t wanted to get him involved. Because he knew that once Wooyoung’s name became associated with his, there was no going back. 

He dug into the pocket of his hoodie, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he pulled out a half-squashed wrapper. 

“Here,” he said quietly, holding it out. 

Wooyoung looked at the ugly little bundle and frowned. “What the fuck is that?”

The clear plastic was smeared with fake icing, half of the chocolate spilled out and mixed with the white coating. You could barely tell what it was. 

Yeosang suddenly felt very stupid. What the fuck was something so shitty compared to ruining someone’s life for the next three years? 

“It’s a snack cake,” he said dumbly, as if that wasn’t obvious, pulling it back towards himself. “I… I got a pack a while ago. I snuck it underneath my mattress, and that’s why it’s a little…” He glanced at the sad little wrapper. “Squished.” 

He couldn’t look at Wooyoung, staring at the ground. 

“It’s all I have,” he admitted dumbly, voice too flat, too quiet. “It was the only thing I had to give you to try and… say sorry… I guess.” 

There was a silence Yeosang was too afraid to break, his throat closing up because Wooyoung was probably going to beat his ass for ruining his life and than trying to fix it with a broken piece of shit snack cake. 

“ _ Well _ ?”

Yeosang looked up, seeing Wooyoung staring up at him with an expectant eyebrow raise. His hand was extended, held up towards Yeosang. He closed and opened it in a grabbing motion. 

“Are you gonna give it to me?” he demanded. “If that’s the only thing you have to try and make it up to me, I’m fucking taking it.” 

Yeosang stared. 

Wooyoung lifted his eyebrow further. “Do you want me to fucking fight you for it or something?” 

Yeosang tried to stammer out a response, but he just stumbled forward, shoving the cake into Wooyoung’s hand, which only smashed it up a little more, but Wooyoung still took it, holding the cake and staring at it. 

“Where did you even get this? Did you smuggle it in or something?” he asked, tearing it open, some crumbs falling out onto his lap. 

Yeosang swallowed. “Um… yeah. The last time we went on a field trip, I got a box when we went to a gas station. I… I hid it under my bed.” 

Wooyoung ate a piece, still glaring. “Junhee’s a fuckhead,” he muttered, flicking a crumb off his pants. “I always knew that, but he’s a  _ real  _ fucking fuckhead.” 

Yeosang stared at him, nodding. “He always has been.” 

Wooyoung hummed, and a silence fell between them heavily. Yeosang felt like he needed to say something, maybe apologize again, but it stuck in his mouth. 

He simply wet his lips, nodding once more. “Thanks again,” he murmured, turning away and walking back across the grass towards the house. 

He didn’t know if Wooyoung watched him go or not. He felt heavy in his chest, like someone was pressing on it. And granted, that could be the numerous bruises that reached bone deep scattered across his skin, but it was… 

Not good. It felt too much like a warning or something. 

~~~~~~

Wooyoung was pretty sure the only reason he wasn’t currently dead in a ditch was because everyone in the orphanage knew he could put up a fucking fight. 

It didn’t stop three or more people cornering him after meals, but it was enough to make sure no single person tried anything against him. And even when multiple of them surrounded him, he usually walked away in a draw or on top. 

He had been getting into fights long before these boys tried his nerves. 

He saw Yeosang around, but the two of them avoided each other’s eyes. Or at least, Wooyoung did. He wasn’t sure if Yeosang watched them. 

They were existing in some sort of limbo. A middle space of… truce? Wooyoung still felt a spike of something he figured was annoyance each time he saw Yeosang. But it seemed like they were both just hovering around each other. Neither of them acknowledging anything, but both of them painfully aware of it. 

Wooyoung intended to stay that way. Ignoring everything and going back to focusing on surviving the next three years as their number two target. 

But then he saw Junhee and co. surrounding Yeosang, backing up against the hallway wall, lips curled into cruel smiles. 

“-that fight, freak?” Junehee demanded, smacking Yeosang’s face, more taunting than painful. “Where’s the spark from before? Aren’t you gonna stand up for yourself? Try and hit me-” He smacked at his cheek again, and Yeosang had none of the emotion he had the last time. 

He stared at Junhee as if he wasn’t even there. Like he was nothing more than an interesting bug on the door. 

Wooyoung bit the inside of his cheek. 

He wanted to walk away. To leave Yeosang to his own devices and continue on with surviving. He clenched a fist, nails digging in. 

Junhee kicked at his knees, making them buckle a little, but Yeosang caught himself, blank expression unimpressed. Wooyoung looked into his eyes. 

They were not afraid. He was never  _ afraid _ . 

_ I just… wanted it to… stop.  _

Oh, for fuck’s sake, he was already this fucking deep, wasn’t he? 

“Hey, assholes!” 

Junhee and his two friends turned, his surprise turning to twisted anger at the sight of Wooyoung. “Well,” he practically sang, fist twisted in the front of Yeosang’s shirt. “Look who showed up.” He turned to Yeosang. “You’ve trained your dog well, haven’t you?”

Wooyoung stalked closer to the two of them. 

_ The only thing keeping you from becoming me…  _

“Leave him alone,” he said, warning clear. 

Junhee’s lips curled into a sneer. “You’re awfully protective of him all of a sudden,” he noted casually. “I’d almost think you were attached.” 

“I don’t have to be attached to him to want to kick your ass,” Wooyoung snapped. “Now back the fuck off.” 

“Or what?” Junhee taunted. “You’ll beat me up?” 

“I’ve done it before.” Wooyoung’s eyes traced over the bruise still visible on his cheek. Junhee dropped Yeosang in favor of running at Wooyoung, who was already well prepared for the attack. 

Their little scuffle took all his attention, until he heard one of the other boys scream. 

Wooyoung’s head snapped over in time to see one of the boy’s hand clenched tightly between Yeosang’s teeth as he other hand snapped away from where it had braced near his crotch. 

He hit Yeosang’s chest, yelling for him to let go. 

Junhee’s fist in his stomach drew his attention back. The air was knocked out of his chest as he wheezed. Junhee grabbed his jaw, fingers digging into his skin. Wooyoung tried to take a breath. 

“What are you obsessed with him for?” he hissed, eyes roaming Wooyoung’s face angrily. “The only thing that  _ freak  _ could offer you is dick.” He glanced Wooyoung over once. “I never would have pinned you as someone who would stoop to that level.” 

Wooyoung spit in his face, the boy jerking back enough for him to grab the back of Junhee’s shirt and slam him into the wall. He fell to the ground, clutching his head, and Wooyoung whipped around to the two other boys. 

The one he had bitten was gone, leaving only one of them struggling to keep Yeosang’s struggling arms still. 

His eyes were still as cold as ice as he tried to break the boy’s grip. 

Wooyoung had taken all of three steps before the boy noticed him, yelping as he ran off, glancing at Junhee as if he might not see him again, as the older boy started to stand again, eyes murderous. Yeosang suddenly grabbed Wooyoung’s wrist and tugged. Wooyoung resisted the urge to shove him off, simply following when Yeosang took off towards the door, ignoring Junhee’s profanities as he ran after them. 

They raced outside, leaping down the stairs, and Wooyoung wondered if Yeosang had finally decided to run away. But Yeosang dragged Wooyoung around the edge of the house until they found a cluster of bushes near the front gate. 

Yeosang dropped to his knees silently, shoving branches aside to reveal a worn hole, just big enough to crawl through. Yeosang hurried in, bending the branches as he passed, and Wooyoung wasn’t about to question it with Junhee probably right behind him. He scurried inside, Yeosang dragging him in the rest of the way. 

The bushes grew like a hedge, a small enclosure that was completely surrounded by leaves and twigs. It was clearly barely big enough for one person, and the two of them were practically smashed together, Yeosang’s hand still wound around Wooyoung’s wrist as he placed a finger to his lips. 

Distantly, Wooyoung heard feet running, and remained silent. 

It was several moments before Yeosang relaxed slightly, disinterested eyes falling to his shoes. “Sorry,” he murmured, though his face showed no regret. “You didn’t have to get involved.” 

Wooyoung’s chest fucking hurt from where Junhee punched him, but he shrugged anyway, staring at the bushes. “I’m already involved. And even if I’m not, my life’s already over since I helped the first time.”

He had been trying not to think about it. To just let it all wash over him, but… To be honest, this place was starting to piss him off. It wasn’t about a desire to help Yeosang, but more an urge to smash the fucking satisfaction off of those boys’ faces. 

“Might as well give them a reason to keep hating me, right?”

Yeosang glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “That sounds like a very stupid reason to keep poking at them.” 

Wooyoung shrugged again, annoyance stirring in his chest. “It’s not like I’m trying to be a fucking knight for you,” He said firmly, daring Yeosang to try and dispute him. “I’m just fucking tired of Junhee and his entourage being dickwads.” 

Yeosang nodded slowly. “Sure.” 

He didn’t sound disbelieving. But Wooyoung kept glaring at him. Yeosang sighed, bringing one hand up to rub at his face. 

“You’ve been here before?” Wooyoung asked, gesturing around their little hideaway. 

He nodded. “I know all the hiding places around here,” he murmured. “I don’t use them so much anymore. But…” He was quiet for a moment. “Back at the beginning I would just hide.” He gestured in front of them. “There are rooms on the third floor that no one ever goes in, there’s a wall panel on the second floor hallway that comes out, there’s a way to crawl under the back steps to outside… I never liked hiding there, though. Too dirty.” 

Wooyoung watched the way his face move. Even without Junhee and them present, he was as stoic was always, as if locking away those parts of him that tried to express even the things he tried to say. Like being sorry. Wooyoung wondered if he had spent so long with that defense mechanism that it had become welded with his true personality. 

“Why did you stop hiding?” 

Yeosang shrugged. “It started out as taunts. I would just hide so I wouldn’t have to listen to it. When it turned… physical, there was never time to run away and hide. So I just… took it.” 

The only thing keeping you from becoming me… 

Well, there wasn’t really a difference between them now, was there? The others may not know… that Wooyoung… 

They may not see Wooyoung and Yeosang as the same, but Wooyoung was worth just as much as Yeosang at this point. 

“How long do you stay here?” Wooyoung asked. 

Yeosang shrugged. “Sometimes all day. I’d stay longer if I could.” 

_ “How long are you planning on running around, brat?”  _

_ “All day, maybe. Hell, maybe I’ll make it easier on you and just fucking stay gone this time.”  _

“I used to run on the streets all day,” Wooyoung muttered angrily. “Just so I didn’t have to stay at fucking home. Pissed the fuck out of my mom.”  __

They weren’t quite the same thing, but it was the closest thing they could have together. 

Yeosang glanced at him. “You didn’t have a good home…” 

It wasn’t a question. “I thought you already overheard everything.” 

“I just heard you were kicked out for being-” Wooyoung glared at him sharply and Yeosang sighed. “Why can’t you say it?” he asked quietly. “You’re gay, Wooyoung. Same as me.” 

Wooyoung didn’t look at him. Yeosang sighed again, but he was silent, not picking back up where he left off. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t say it. It wasn’t like he didn’t know. But… 

It was several minutes of silence later when Wooyoung’s teeth began to ache. “Better to be thrown out for being… a trouble kid,” He muttered bitterly. “Better to be beaten up for standing up for the freak… Better to have a shit hand for something I chose… something I have control over… instead of something I didn’t even fucking want.” 

The silence between them pounded like a heartbeat, but Wooyoung didn’t look over, tracing mental patterns in the dirt. He shouldn’t have fucking said anything. 

Wooyoung hadn’t even remembered Yeosang was holding his wrist, until the hand slid down to wrap around Wooyoung’s firmly. 

He jerked away, but Yeosang tightened his grip, holding on until Wooyoung looked at him. 

But Yeosang didn’t look at him. He stared at the dirt, lips white with how hard they pressed together. There was something swirling in his eyes, something dark and heavy and hurting. 

Yeosang squeezed his hand, and Wooyoung wanted to shove it off, to jerk back and push Yeosang into the bushes and run off- 

But Yeosang held on, squeezing once more. Like he was trying to communicate something, like there was supposed to be some message hidden in their skin that pressed together. 

Wooyoung could hear it. Which is why he didn’t shove him off. 

Wooyoung wasn’t sure what the message was, but… he didn’t shove Yeosang off. 

It felt like… 

Wooyoung looked away, staring at the green leaves. Yeosang continued to stare at the dirt. Neither of them spoke, not even when the sun darkened and night started creeping in on them. They were going to get in deep shit for missing curfew. 

Still, neither of them moved. Neither said a word. 

It felt like a bubble, for a moment. Like their little forest cage was blocking them in. A place where it was just them. 

And certainly, Yeosang was better company than those assholes. 

~~~~~~~

There was no… verbal agreement. No decision passed between the two of them, but the next day, when Wooyoung headed downstairs for breakfast, he found Yeosang sitting in an empty hallway, head tilted back as his nose bled. 

And Wooyoung didn’t think. He simply shifted his course and walked over, offering a hand down. 

Hell, if the others were going to beat his ass for standing up for Yeosang, he might as well give them enough reasons to  _ really  _ be pissed about. 

Yeosang stared passively at his hand for a moment before extending his non-bloodied one, resting it in Wooyoung’s. He hauled him to his feet, expression hard. 

“Come on, asshole,” he sighed, dragging Yeosang outside. 

He snuck into the dining hall, snagging as much food as he could without being caught in anyone’s fist fights, and snuck back out, sitting down beside Yeosang outside, pushing the plate towards him, resting his head on his knees and glaring out across the yard. 

This place really was fucking shitty. 

There was a gentle nudge on his arm. 

Yeosang held out half the bread roll to him, expression blank. 

Wooyoung stared at it for several moments before sighing and taking it, leaning back against the brick of the house. “This is going to be… a weird thing, isn’t it?” he sighed. 

He was locked into this now, wasn’t he? 

Yeosang shrugged. “Doesn’t feel that weird to me.” He passed Wooyoung a piece of chicken. 

Wooyoung took it. “Feels pretty fucking weird to me,” He muttered, but took a bite of bread anyway. 

And there was no… conversation about it. In fact, Wooyoung and Yeosang rarely spoke more than a handful of words at once. 

But somehow, they kept winding up near each other. Sitting outside… hiding out in abandoned rooms that Yeosang assured him no one came in… passing stolen food back and forth that Wooyoung had snuck directly from the kitchen now that the dining hall wasn’t safe for him either. 

And when they walked outside together, sometimes there was a nice little group waiting for them. 

And sometimes, Wooyoung would fight until his knuckles were bloodier than his face. 

And sometimes, Wooyoung was there on the ground with Yeosang, trying to just count down until it was over because there was no way he was getting back up. 

It was fucked up, but… Wooyoung could almost feel a sort of solidarity between the two of them. Not that he ever wanted it, but when he glanced over and there was Yeosang getting the shit beat out of him… 

Well, better to almost die with company, right? 

They would pick each other up, helping them limp back to Wooyoung’s room where his first aid supplies were running down faster than ever. 

“They wouldn’t go after you so much if you weren’t always with me,” Yeosang mumbled around his lip that was busted open for the third time that week. “You can just stay away, you know.” 

Wooyoung winced as he massaged his knuckles that were bruised. “This is more fun,” he said, nothing humorous about his expression, though. “And I told you before, I’m already too deep. Junhee wants me dead as much as he wants you gone.” 

And after a few weeks… Wooyoung was starting to make his peace with that. 

It fucking sucked. Finding the others cornering Yeosang in dark hallways, meeting ambushes that were just annoying at this point. 

“Just… stop walking around on your own,” Wooyoung told him as he helped Yeosang to stand, his hand clutching at his ankle that one of the boys had kicked. “They don’t bother us so much when it’s both of us.” 

It was survival. Because maybe it was every man for himself, but there was safety in numbers, provided you could trust the person at your back. And Wooyoung may not trust Yeosang to be able to do much, but he knew that at least Yeosang wasn’t going to be the one stabbing his back. 

So Wooyoung started waking up, walking to Yeosang’s room and waiting for him to come out. And both of them were so cut off from everyone else at this point, but all they had was… well, each other. They spent their days wandering or sitting. Still, they never spoke much. 

Sometimes, Yeosang would grab Wooyoung when they noticed the other boys in the distance and drag him away, to some hidden corner or loose board that would hide them. 

The loose panel in the hallway was the best hiding spot, but it was hardly big enough for them, forcing them chest to chest as he slid in, breathing each other’s space until they were sure it was safe. 

One night, as Wooyoung laid awake, he realized that… this was better. 

Better than before, when he was safe and not getting his ass kicked so hard he couldn’t move. Somehow… he felt… better here than he had when surrounded by people bigger than himself. 

Wooyoung hated to think about what that might mean. What it might become. 

Wooyoung sat beside Yeosang in the field out back, hidden behind an oak tree, and Yeosang was threading piece of grass together into a ugly little chain. Wooyoung shoved the piece of bread he had snagged at him, leaning back against the tree. 

Yeosang stared at the bread, expression unreadable as always. 

“I didn’t poison it,” Wooyoung scoffed. 

Yeosang kept staring, setting the chain down carefully, his jaw working slightly. 

“ _ What _ ?” Wooyoung demanded. “Just eat it.” 

“You…” Yeosang wet his lips. “You’re the first… friend I’ve had here.” 

_ We’re not friends.  _

It was on the tip of Wooyoung’s tongue, but it never quite fell, even though the words had already formed. He swallowed them down, almost choking on them. 

Yeosang lifted his eyes to stare at Wooyoung, and Wooyoung found them misty, even as his expression changed none. 

“For the first time since I got here… I’m not alone,” he murmured, voice thick. “Even if… even if you don’t agree… or even if you think it’s stupid…” Yeosang’s jaw flexed, one tear falling down his cheek. 

Wooyoung felt sick. 

“You’re the best thing that happened to me in this god forsaken place,” Yeosang whispered, voice catching in an almost violent seeming display of emotion. “Even if you think I’m stupid for sticking around, or for just laying there… even if you’re only around me for other reasons… You still make everything seem… not so bad.” 

Wooyoung felt like he was been struck deep in his gut, the breath leaving him rapidly, not giving him time to brace himself. 

Yeosang was still staring at him. 

“Why… are you bringing it up now?” Wooyoung asked, feeling like he was trying to talk without being able to hear his own voice. It felt muted. 

Yeosang swallowed, wetting his lips. “I… just wanted you to know.” 

Wooyoung would never have considered he and Yeosang friends in a million years. They were together out of survival, out of necessity and getting stuck together by their own reputations. That wasn’t friendship. 

Even if Wooyoung was pretty sure he...almost… maybe… enjoyed Yeosang’s presence. His humor was dry but there, and he never seemed to take Wooyoung seriously, which pissed him off but was probably for the best. 

And when he helped Wooyoung up after his royal ass beating, he was surprisingly solid, despite how fucking thin he was. 

And when Wooyoung turned to grab him and run, he was always ready, reliable and not dragging Wooyoung back. 

Wooyoung just didn’t expect Yeosang to drop something like that out of the blue. 

Wooyoung was an asshole. 

“Well, considering what you’ve been dealing with, that’s not a very high bar to reach, is it?” he quipped, not quite able to meet Yeosang’s eyes, but not looking away. “I’m pretty sure all I need for that is to  _ not hit you _ , and I’m already the best thing. So, really, it’s not-” 

Yeosang’s hand wrapped around his wrist. 

Wooyoung’s mouth clicked shut embarrassingly as Yeosang stared at him, his eyes now dry and back to their cold intensity. 

“Regardless of the competition,” He said quietly. “It’s still you.” 

He held Wooyoung’s gaze for several moments, during which Wooyoung took exactly zero breaths, and then he turned back to his bread roll, tearing off a piece and eating it quietly. 

Wooyoung was glad Yeosang didn’t offer to share because he was sure he would have thrown it up. 

After that day… things… changed. 

Well, the base things remained the same. He and Yeosang still hung around, they were still practically hunted, they still tried their best to escape unscathed- 

The change came when Wooyoung was trying to shove off the boy pinning him down, and he glanced beyond him, almost on accident, and saw another boy punch Yeosang across his cheek, sending the other to the ground. 

Wooyoung watched Yeosang get beat up on a daily basis. 

This was the first time it felt like a needle had been inserted, swiftly and mercilessly, into his lungs, passing into his heart. Wooyoung flinched as if the blow had been delivered to him, and he twisted, shoving the boy atop him away, kicking him away as he ran over to Yeosang. 

They grabbed Yeosang by his hair, and Wooyoung winced. 

They kicked at his stomach, and Wooyoung felt a fist bury itself in his chest. 

And when he would help Yeosang up after it was all over, Yeosang would wince as the movements agitated the wounds, and Wooyoung found himself apologizing, loosening his grip a little and slowing his movements. 

When Wooyoung guided them to his room, Wooyoung felt sick with each streak of blood he wiped away. 

These things had never happened before. 

After he was finished patching them up, he didn’t take Yeosang and immediately shove him from the room. They both sat on Wooyoung’s bed. 

Yeosang stared at the scrapes on Wooyoung’s knuckles. 

“You don’t have to keep standing up for me,” he whispered, eyes never flickering away. “You could just run.” 

Wooyoung’s brow twitched downwards. “You think after months, I’ll suddenly decide to do the smart thing?” he scoffed. 

Yeosang didn’t give any reaction. His jaw flexed. “You don’t have to keep getting hurt for me.” 

“Aw, Yeosang, you almost make it sound like you care,” he snorted, shaking his head. 

Yeosang said nothing. 

Wooyoung’s dark amusement faded as he stared at the stoic boy. “Yeosang?” 

He didn’t move. 

“I do care,” he whispered, so quiet Wooyoung would have missed it if it hadn’t been deadly silent. 

He straightened slightly, stomach rolling. “I know you do.” 

Wooyoung didn’t plan on saying it, but it came out anyway, and Yeosang’s eyes flickered up to his face, cold and hard and something else. 

Their relationship was a weird thing. Not falling completely under one title or another. And that made it hard, but also easy. Because they could hop back and forth to whatever was easiest. Be it survival partners, friends, or none of the above. 

They spent most of their time in some weird sort of limbo that couldn’t hold a name. 

Like this moment, where Yeosang was staring at him, trying to tell him something, and Wooyoung couldn’t read it, so he just stared back. 

Yeosang turned away, shaking his head. “What the hell are we doing here, Wooyoung?” he whispered, turning his head towards the ceiling. 

Wooyoung was lost. Yeosang didn’t usually act like this, even when they hung around their middle-in-between place. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, leaning to see Yeosang’s face that was carefully unreadable. 

Yeosang lowered his head, hair falling into his eyes. “Why are we still living in this hell?” he demanded weakly. “Why are we hanging around a place that thinks we’re worth more dead than alive? Why are we still at a place that beats us every fucking day… just for who we are?” His hands on either side of him curled into tight fists. 

Wooyoung stared at him, stunned silent for a moment. “Are… are you talking about… leaving the orphanage?” 

Yeosang gave no answer, which was answer enough. 

“Are you serious?” Wooyoung demanded. 

Because for all he thought about it, and wondered why Yeosang hadn’t left so long ago, it wasn’t something that was easy. Running away would make them free, yes, but surviving as no-name abandoned orphans without a single penny to themselves? 

It was asking for a much faster, unpleasant death. If they were lucky. 

“You would actually leave?”

Yeosang took a breath that wasn’t quite stable. 

“Before? No,” he answered, voice hollow, staring at his knees. “With you? … Yes,” he whispered, head dropping further. 

With… Wooyoung. 

“I… I can trust you,” Yeosang quietly. “I would be too afraid to do it on my own, but if I ran with you… I’d go.” 

Wooyoung’s mouth tasted like bitter herbs, making him want to gag. He felt a little light headed. 

“ _ Why _ ?” he demanded. Why would Yeosang trust him? Someone who’d only stopped tormenting him a few months ago. Someone whom he hadn’t even known much longer than that. 

Why would Yeosang want to risk everything with him? 

Yeosang looked up slowly, and his expression wasn’t stoic, nor unreadable. 

It was scared. 

Wooyoung opened his mouth as Yeosang straightened, his fists uncurling from his sides. 

Yeosang moved forward suddenly, and instinct made Wooyoung flinch back. 

Yeosang’s lips connected with his anyway. 

Wooyoung’s hand leapt up to Yeosang’s arms, grabbing onto his biceps firmly to shove him away. 

Yeosang’s hands didn’t touch him, remaining braced on the mattress, and Wooyoung… 

Wooyoung didn’t shove him back. 

Wooyoung had kissed exactly one person in his life. 

And they were sitting across from him currently, eyes shut so tightly, Wooyoung could feel how they morphed his face into hard wrinkles, bracing himself in a way he never did, even under the wailing of fists and strikes. 

When he started pushing the smallest bit, Yeosang pulled away, his face hidden by his hair as he kept his head bowed low. 

Wooyoung felt like he had been kicked in the gut. 

“I told you before,” Yeosang whispered, voice hoarse. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me in this place.” His hands curled back into fists. “I don’t want to keep being hurt, Wooyoung,” he murmured. “I don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.” 

Wooyoung felt every punch and hit and smack that was delivered to Yeosang, pushing it deep into his mind where he couldn’t try and think about it. 

He was thinking about it now. 

_ I don’t want to keep watching you get hurt.  _

“And you had to kiss me to say that?” he said, tongue numb and heavy. 

Yeosang winced, jaw tightening. “That was more of a side note.” 

“A side note of what?” Wooyoung demanded, lips tingling and not working properly. 

Yeosang took a deep breath that shook a little. “I don’t know,” Yeosang admitted under his breath. “But I.. I don’t want to be… alone anymore,” he whispered. “I want… I just want to be with you.” 

Wooyoung’s mouth was dry. 

“As in… run away with me.” 

“Run away… stay here… whichever,” He admitted. “I just don’t want to lose this.” 

“But you  _ want  _ to run.” 

Yeosang was silent, seeming to think it over. His hand wrapped around Wooyoung’s wrist loosely. Wooyoung didn’t try to shake him off, frozen in place. He looked up slowly, eyes back to that hard determination. 

“I no longer want to live in a place where I watch people I care for being hurt,” he said voice echoing in Wooyoung’s chest. “I don’t want to keep living every day being punished for crimes that don’t exist.” 

Wooyoung’s head was spinning, his eyes focused on the grip on his wrist, the weight in his chest, the numbness in his limbs that was spreading slowly. 

Running away. 

Yeosang. 

Wooyoung couldn’t say what he was feeling at the moment. Whether it was confusion or excitement or horror or whatever. 

Would he do it? 

Would he run with Yeosang? 

It would be suicide to do so. They were both fucking kids, with nothing behind them, and barely old enough to try and find a way to support themselves. 

But could out there really be much more hell than in here? 

Could outside really hurt them anymore than their own comrades had? 

And, yeah, maybe Yeosang wasn’t much use in a fight, but that’s what Wooyoung was for. 

Maybe people would look at Yeosang and think he was cute enough to give money to. He didn’t look like a delinquent, with scars from a fight he started. He looked like a puppy someone had kicked one too many times. 

Wooyoung… 

Wooyoung wanted to stop Yeosang from living this hell. 

He had never said it in so many words. 

But wasn’t that what he had been doing from the beginning? From the moment he ran in the first time… wasn’t it to stop him from being hurt? 

“Is… the kissing thing a package deal with the running away?” Wooyoung asked. 

And Yeosang  _ honest to god  _ cracked the tiniest of smiles, his lip twitching upward just enough to be called an emotion. 

“It’s negotiable.” 

Wooyoung nodded jerkily. “We’ll discuss that later.” Yeosang inclined his head. “For now…” His mouth was dry. “For now… I’m all for getting the hell out of this shit hole.” 

Plans and the future… those had never mattered. Wooyoung never thought about his future. It was something he never planned to even have. So he didn’t think about it now. 

He thought about the utter relief in Yeosang’s eyes as he stared at Wooyoung as if he wasn’t completely there. 

They were getting out of this hell. 

They didn’t sleep that night. Instead, they climbed out the window on the third floor, climbing into a flimsy seeming tree, and climbing up to the roof where they laid down and watched the stars in silence. 

They fell asleep up there, just on the edge of morning, when their eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. 

“You know it’s going to take time to get ready?” Wooyoung asked Yeosang who sat across from him in the field. “We need food and packs with clothes. Money, we’ll have to get somewhere else, but we need food and clothes. Blankets if we can fit them.” 

Yeosang nodded, a determination of indescribable proportions in his eyes. 

In the following week, Wooyoung snuck into the kitchen everyday, grabbing cans of food of boxes of nonperishables. They hid it all in an empty room on the third floor, backing it into backpacks they were sent to the orphanage with. 

One was dedicated to food. The others, to as many clothes as they could gather from their own stash or steal from someone else’s. 

Their days were still interrupted with running from their tormentors. Still slowed down as he drew themselves up fight after fight, but their eyes would meet, and they wouldn’t be quite so heavy. When they were taking hit after hit, it almost felt like it didn’t hurt as badly. 

They were getting out. And the satisfaction that the others didn’t know was almost enough to act as a shield. 

They were getting out. 

It didn’t stop the pain in his chest as Yeosang doubled over, Junhee’s fist burying itself deep and intent. It didn’t stop the twist in his heart as they threw Yeosang to the ground. 

Wooyoung had never been good at… feelings and things like that. 

He was angry. All the time. So much, it felt like the only thing he was capable of. And for the longest time, he had believed that it was. Even during all of this, there was only anger. Anger at Junhee and his thugs, anger at himself for his own weaknesses, anger at himself for letting it hurt- 

Anger at Yeosang for not being strong enough to fight back. 

Anger at himself for not being strong enough to ensure he didn’t have to. 

He had never been good at feelings. He was better at actions. At moving, at running, at confidence. That was all he had. 

All he could do was move. 

(In the middle of the rushing back and forth, Wooyoung grabbed Yeosang, pulling him into the loose wall panel, and kissing him hard. Yeosang started at the rather violent attack, but quickly grabbed onto Wooyoung’s arms, holding them tightly as he pushed forward, meeting Wooyoung with a fierceness that spoke of waiting. 

Yeosang’s hands were cool where they gripped him, but his lips were warm, moving against Wooyoung’s achingly. One of Yeosang’s hand found the small of his back, pulling him closer, and something about the gesture… 

It was a soft one. A purer one than Wooyoung was sure they had any right to have. 

It made his throat close up, especially when they parted, and Yeosang kept his hand there gently, keeping him close. 

And the tiniest part of Wooyoung that was hesitant about it all dissolved into thin air as Yeosang kissed him again, softer this time, smooth and slow and deep, and it was something Wooyoung didn’t think they were  _ allowed  _ to have. 

They were beaten and bruised and ugly. 

They weren’t supposed to be getting goosebumps as gentle hands trailed carefully over bruises they had gotten together. They weren’t supposed to feel a pressure behind their eyes as they kissed and almost got selfish enough to want something more. 

They weren’t supposed to sneak into their hiding places, laid down gently in the dirt with Yeosang hovering above him, kissing him as if they had all the time in the world, as if each of their little hideaways was their own world that couldn’t be breached.

He wasn’t supposed to feel anything but anger.) 

At the end of two weeks, their backpacks could hold no more. 

They curled around each other in the empty third floor room, Yeosang’s hand threaded through his. 

His expression was unreadable. 

Wooyoung felt something heavy in his chest. 

“Last chance,” He whispered into the darkness that fell on them with night. 

Yeosang’s hand tightened on his. “I know.” 

They stood together. 

“It’s just gonna be us,” Wooyoung warned him, as if they hadn’t had this conversation over and over. “There’s not going to be anyone to help us.” 

And Yeosang responded rotely: “When has there ever been?” 

Wooyoung stared at him for a moment. 

Yeosang stared back. 

Wooyoung pulled him down, kissing him quick and shallow. Yeosang’s hand found the small of his back, resting there, warm and light. 

When they parted, it felt colder, but Wooyoung grabbed the bag full of food, and Yeosang grabbed the one overflowing with clothing and the one blanket they could afford to shove in. 

They climbed out of the window, into the flimsy tree, and slid down carefully, landing on the dew damp grass. Yeosang gave him one more glance, nodding as they made their way silently around the house, ending by the gated entrance. 

They threw their bags over, landing on the other side as they scaled the fence quickly, landing beside their packs. 

Within minutes, the orphanage was out of sight. 

Wooyoung paused, glancing back, marveling at how easy it had been. 

He turned back, facing the road that lead towards the city that he could barely make out the lights of, glowing in the distance. 

Yeosang gestured for him to follow as they made their way along quickly. It was almost too easy. 

But getting out was never going to be the hard part. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be honest, I love writing backstories almost more than writing actual content so I tend to go a bit crazy with it lol~~  
> But I hope you liked it, let me know what you think!!   
> I hope you all have an amazing day, and I’ll see you in the next chapter!!   
> -SS


	3. You Are My Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t even know what my update schedule is anymore lol  
> This is another longer one and quite a bit happens, so I’m sorry if it’s too much or too rushed, but I hope you enjoy!!  
> I actually really like writing this chapter, o have fun with it!  
> I hope you have an amazing day!!  
> -SS

Winter came early and fast. 

One day they were going to sleep, curled up under their little blankets and pressed together to ward off the chill, and the next morning they were waking up half frozen. 

San and Mingi had been charged with wandering around and trying to find some more blankets or jackets stuffed into donation boxes or thrown into dumpsters. 

All their things were moved into one cramped room, and even if it meant that you had no room to shift around in your sleep, it was better than freezing to death. The windows were covered as best they could be with scraps of cloth and wood. 

Hongjoong stood on the edge of the street, a little bundle resting in his arms. 

His chest was heavy. Seonghwa glared at him, as if daring him to try and return it. 

It wasn’t that he was grateful. He was so fucking grateful- for everything that Seonghwa did for them, for everything he continued to do, despite the repercussions he faced. 

Evident in the little baggie he held with a sandwich in it. 

Seonghwa, of course, could not sneak out enough food for seven people. He took out what he could- some chips here, a sandwich there, some water where he could. Last week had been the first time he had attempted to sneak out an entire bag of chips, and his father had not been happy. 

His father may not know where Seonghwa spends his time, but that didn’t mean he let up on Seonghwa at all because of it. He knew he wasn't where he was supposed to be (at home) and that was it. 

He held the baggie out to Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong didn’t even reach for it. “Give it to Yunho, he-” 

“I didn’t make it for Yunho,” Seonghwa said, the slight annoyance evident in his voice. “Yunho isn’t about to go out on a boat for ten hours without having eaten in 24 hours.” 

“We had something yester-” 

“I know you didn’t eat enough of that because you gave Mingi most of your part,” Seonghwa said sharply, pushing the sandwich forward and sitting it on top of the pile of clothing. “Eat the fucking sandwich, Hongjoong. It’s not a crime for you to eat.” 

Yeah, but how the hell was he supposed to sit here and eat when he knew the others were back at the warehouse without any food other than a few granola bars a nice lady gave San? 

But Seonghwa looked like he was beginning to reach his limits. 

He had been reaching that limit a lot faster ever since Hongjoong took on the job. And as much as Hongjoong wanted to stand his ground… 

Seonghwa didn’t need anymore stress added onto his life. 

He sighed. “Fine.” 

And it was maybe almost worth it to see the way his shoulders unbunched, relaxing for the first time in days. Hongjoong’s chest felt a little lighter, despite his reservations. 

Seonghwa’s eyes had softened around the edges, and Hongjoong ignored the way it felt nice to be able to cause that, even if it was at the expense of his personal wants. 

He always hated making Seonghwa look so frazzled. 

“I need to get going,” Hongjoong said after a few moments of silence and staring. “Are you still gonna be around when I get off?” It would be late. Before midnight, maybe. 

Seonghwa’s eyes took on a more nervous air. “I-” He hesitated, glancing behind himself for a moment. “I might have to head home early today,” he said. “I… I wouldn’t tell the others to expect me. I don’t… I don’t think I’ll be around.” 

The peace in Hongjoong’s chest vanished. “Why?” he asked, his heart icing over rapidly. “What’s he doing-” 

“He’s leaving in a few days,” Seonghwa said, as if that was an answer to his question. “I just… I need to sort some things out with him before he goes, but once he’s gone, I’ll have more time-” 

“He’s not getting worse, is it?” Hongjoong questioned, concern digging its way through the ice to press sharply against the softest parts of his heart. “You haven’t even been staying out that late this week-” 

“It’s nothing that bad,” Seonghwa assured him, smiling gently. 

Hongjoong didn’t believe him. Hongjoong could never believe him. 

Seonghwa could walk up with a knife in his chest and tell Hongjoong it wasn’t that bad. 

He shifted, knowing that he needed to get going if he was going to make it in time for the old man to leave, but his feet wouldn’t move. “You’ll tell me if he starts getting bad, right?” 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes. “Yes, Hongjoong, I’ll tell you.” 

“ _ Seonghwa _ .” 

The amused diversion faded at Hongjoong’s sharp tone, his eyes sharp and worried because… Seonghwa was the one person he really couldn’t help. Seonghwa was somehow, out of all the people around him, the only one that was untouchable. 

“ _ You’ll tell me _ ?” he repeated, voice hard as flint. Because Seonghwa lied as easily as breathing. Not out of any malicious intent, but he was just so convinced that everything he went through was nothing compared to the others. 

Seonghwa looked a little surprised by the intense response, but his expression melted into something more serious. “I’ll tell you, Hongjoong. I promise.” 

His tone was appropriately somber, but Hongjoong still couldn’t bring himself to believe him. 

He couldn’t wait any longer, though, beginning to back away. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll see you later, Seonghwa.” 

Seonghwa just raised a hand in farewell, eyes a mosaic of every emotion. 

Hongjoong never tried too hard to identify those emotions. He was too afraid of what he’d find. 

But, then, Hongjoong was always a little afraid of what he’d find in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

~~~~~~

It was Hongjoong who found Seonghwa. 

Sort of. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung were at the skatepark, and Hongjoong was still nervous to leave them alone and return to the warehouse on the other side of town, so he hung around the little fields that surrounded the park, out of sight of them, but close enough to at least be comfortable. 

And it wasn’t his fault. Really. He had just been staring up at the stars that shone so brightly, even among the city lights in the distance, and then suddenly, he was stepping on a body hidden in the shadows of night. 

He knew immediately that he was stepping on something he shouldn’t be, so he jerked his foot back up, which upset his balance and he went tumbling into the grass, half landing on the thing he had just stepped on. 

A boy stared back at Hongjoong, face twisted in discomfort. 

“Ow,” was all he said flatly. 

Hongjoong immediately leapt off of him. “Sorry!” he burst as the boy sat up, rubbing at his leg that Hongjoong apparently stepped on. 

There was a moment of awkward silence where the boy glanced back up at him, and Hongjoong took in his nicer looking clothes, wondering if he was the kind of person to try and call the cops on Hongjoong in his clearly ratty sweatshirt and jeans. In the middle of the night. 

He sighed, though, as if he were too tired for all this. Hongjoong felt a little bad about it, despite not doing it on purpose. 

“It’s fine,” he sighed, sitting with his knees curled up slightly. “It’s hard to see out here, I guess.” 

And Hongjoong was ready to just apologize again and run off, prepared to never deal with the incident, but… 

Hongjoong knew what hopelessness looked like. He knew how to see the hollow eyes that were weighed with a sadness that couldn’t really ever be cured. He saw it everyday in the mirror, in his friends, in the others he passed in the streets… 

He didn’t expect to see it in the boy sitting in the grass. 

And maybe it was clear that this boy was not like him, but Hongjoong… well, Wooyoung liked to bitch about how he was overbearing and overprotective. But mostly, he just… he just wanted people to stop being so sad. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang were probably the first people he had encountered like him that were… 

They certainly weren’t bubbling with joy, but they were… they were content. Half-starved, dirty, and exhausted, but they were… they were more alive than Hongjoong had felt in years. And he kept wondering what it was, why they were special, what made it so that they still had the courage to get up every morning and face everything, even at the worst times. 

And it had taken very little time before he realized that it was each other. 

And slowly, Hongjoong found his own strength in them, too. He had something else to work for, other than his own survival that never seemed to be enough. And maybe he smiled for the first time in months, and it just felt so fucking good- 

The boy in front of him looked like Hongjoong had. Which didn’t make sense if he wasn’t crawling into dumpsters in search of clothes. 

“Are you… okay?” 

The boy looked up, frowning to see through the dim lighting from the moon. “Yeah, you’re not that heavy, you just surprised me.” 

Hongjoong swallowed. “No, I mean- Well, yes, I’m glad I didn’t break something, but like… are you okay?” He squatted down, eye level with the boy who was frowning at him in confusion. “Not to sound creepy, but you don’t… look okay.” 

The boy’s eyebrows twitched deeper, scanning Hongjoong’s face for a moment, looking a cross between confused and creeped out. 

And scared. 

“I’m fine.” His voice was too flat, too practiced. 

Hongjoong frowned further. “What’re you doing out here in the middle of the night, then?” 

The boy glanced him over, and he seemed nervous, but not in the same way other people sometimes looked at Hongjoong, like he was hiding some sort of weapon. “Aren’t you out here in the middle of the night, too?” he pointed out, as if he had placed Hongjoong in checkmate. 

Hongjoong shrugged, lips twitching despite himself. “I get a free pass, I don’t have anywhere else to go.” The boy’s frown only got deeper, and then shifted into something else.

Hongjoong was not ashamed of where he wound up. Regretful, maybe, but not ashamed. He had seen every reaction under the sun when he would casually drop the fact that he had nowhere to call home. From disgust, to pity, to taking a few steps away, to smiles becoming strained, to pulling children away, to scoffs. 

He had never had someone sigh gently, lowering their heads as if they had no more energy to hold them up, as their eyes become unimaginably heavy. “I feel that way, too,” He murmured under his breath. 

And, God, if this guy was confessing dark regrets to a stranger in the middle of the night, it was worse than Hongjoong thought. 

He settled into the grass, knowing he had time before Wooyoung and Yeosang would be done. He hesitated for only a moment before leaning his elbows on his knees to give the boy a sympathetic look. “Home… troubles?” he asked gently. 

And he scoffed. A soft, tired thing, like a weak little breath from a broken lung. “Can you call it home troubles if it isn’t a fucking home?” he muttered darkly, expression half-hidden in shadow. 

Hongjoong winced. The worst kind. “Parents?” 

He hummed bitterly, curling around his knees tighter. “My father is a fucking asshole.” 

Hongjoong winced. “Well, I could have guessed that the moment you called him ‘father.’ No good dad ever gets called ‘father’.” 

He glanced at Hongjoong, and there was a stark frown that twitched into something almost like amusement, but was drowned out by the suspicion. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, perhaps a tragic backstory too late, but Hongjoong offered a wry smile. 

He held out a hand. “Hongjoong.” 

He stared at the hand for a few minutes. “Seonghwa,” he answered quietly, taking Hongjoong’s hand in his and shaking it shortly. He glanced him over once more. “You make a habit of checking in on strangers in the middle of the night?” he asked. 

Hongjoong grinned slightly, shrugging. “Just the ones I step on.” 

Seonghwa cracked a smile, but the base heaviness didn’t wear away. “Thanks,” he muttered, not quite meeting Hongjoong’s eyes. 

“What did your old man do?” Hongjoong questioned carefully, gauging whether or not it was a line to cross. 

Seonghwa snorted softly, looking at him in bewilderment. “You think me calling him ‘father’ is bad, but you call him ‘old man?’” he demanded, half-laughing. “What sort of father did  _ you  _ have?” 

Hongjoong chuckled, drawing one leg up. “I’d tell you if I had ever met him.” 

Seonghwa’s smile disappeared like a candle being snuffed. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-” 

Hongjoong’s grin was genuine. “Does it look like I mind?” he asked. “He was a shit for leaving my mom anyway.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes held a delicateness- a desire to press, to understand, but not to push. “She took care of you on her own?” 

And Hongjoong’s laugh was bright and honest because it had been so long since someone had had such a pure view on their lives. “If ‘take care’ means spent every cent she had on booze and drugs, yeah, she took care of me real well.” 

There was no bitterness there. There hadn’t been for a long time. 

Seonghwa’s expression was torn between horrified and heartbroken and confused. He lowered his eyes. “I guess I don’t have a right to complain, if your home life is like that.” 

Hongjoong had to sigh, shaking his head in amusement. “I don’t  _ have  _ a home life, dipshit.” 

Seonghwa looked back up, confused. Hongjoong had to flick his arm. “I told you before- I’ve got nowhere else to go.” He gestured over his shoulder. “My current haunt is an old warehouse on the edge of town.” 

And confusion finally bled away into horrified realization. “You-” Seonghwa looked scared, his eyes wide, and mouth open in disbelief. “Oh my god- You’re homeless- You were talking literally-” Hongjoong grinned, nodding as Seonghwa hid his face in his hands. “God, this makes me a fucking asshole, doesn’t it?” 

“Nah,” Hongjoong chuckled. “And ‘homeless’ is a rather harsh term. I like to think of us as ‘houseless’ rather than ‘homeless.’ The warehouse may not be much, it’s better than where we were.” 

Seonghwa looked up. “Us?” 

Hongjoong jerked his head behind them. “I’ve got a couple friends taking advantage of the skatepark right now.” He waved a hand. “But we’re not talking about us right now. What’d your old man do that brought you all the way out here?” 

Seonghwa looked like Hongjoong had just slapped him, like he was getting some serious whiplash. It would have been amusing, if Hongjoong didn’t feel so bad for the guy. 

There was several seconds where the shock died and Seonghwa seemed to be trying to decide what to say or if to say it. 

It had been a long time since Hongjoong had found someone who was willing to speak to someone like him. Even longer since someone had spoken naturally to him. 

“He’s just… an asshole,” He muttered under his breath, not looking at Hongjoong. “He’s forcing me to take all these classes, and then acts confused when I don’t want to show up for them.” He shook his head. “It’s just- It’s a lot of things from a long time finally coming to a breaking point.” 

Hongjoong watched as Seonghwa rubbed at his face, expression stiff, like he was trying to keep from showing some sort emotion. 

“That fuckin’ sucks.” 

Seonghwa glanced at him. “I don’t think I really have a right to complain to you.” 

Hongjoong let out a ‘pfft’ and waved a hand. “I’ve moved on in my life. I’m free from that hellhole I used to live in. Believe me, being on your own is a million times easier than being stuck.” 

Seonghwa seemed to be looking at him differently, eyes tracing Hongjoong with an almost-confusion that wasn’t quite it. He looked like he wanted to ask something else. He didn’t. 

“Hongjoong!” a voice called in the distance while they sat in silence. 

Hongjoong tilted his head back, seeing Wooyoung and Yeosang waving from the road. He turned back to Seonghwa. “I should get going,” he said. Seonghwa stood with him, and Hongjoong hesitated. “You need company getting home?” he offered. 

Seonghwa shook his head quickly. “No, I… I’ll be okay,” he said, and he at least sounded a little more believable than before. “I…” He chewed the inside of his lips before nodding. “Thanks,” he said finally. 

Hongjoong grinned. “No problem.” 

He ran into Seonghwa a few more times. At the park, in the middle of the night, he almost wondered if the boy was waiting for him. Each time, he would sit beside him, and he’d tell him to lay out whatever it was that brought him out here. It was always his father. 

But after Seonghwa had run out of breath, he would always pause, collecting himself before asking Hongjoong how he’d been. 

And that was the first time someone had ever asked Hongjoong that. It felt weird. 

But he told Seonghwa. Honestly, he would describe the nice lady at the gas station who didn’t chase them off, or how lucky they were that a man by the sandwich cart had given them some money. 

Seonghwa listened. And his eyes were heavy, and there was pity in his eyes, but he said nothing about how hard their lives were anymore. It was nice. 

And then they arranged meeting times during the day, walking around while Hongjoong showed him some of the best places to ask for money and which places were a little dangerous because the police didn’t like them. Seonghwa pointed out the places he visited alone, the ice cream shop he and a friend from elementary school used to go to. 

And one day, Seonghwa showed up, and Hongjoong offered Seonghwa to go back to the warehouse with him, since it was looking like rain. 

Seonghwa agreed startlingly quickly. 

And then he kept coming over. And kept staying later and later. 

And then, suddenly, Hongjoong had another reason to get up in the morning. 

~~~~~~

Hongjoong made it a goal to never regret. 

He might think about what could have been, but he tried to never let his situation become something too dark. He couldn’t change it, so he tried not to lose sleep over it. 

Stepping off that boat, he was trying very hard not to regret. 

He couldn’t feel his fingers, and he was pretty sure the only reason he hadn’t died over the past few days was because of the coat Seonghwa gave him. But once it was wet, it didn’t do much but block the wind. 

The work was more grueling than he had anticipated, the nets heavy and the deck slippery. Sometimes, willpower was the only thing keeping his arms from giving out as he tried to haul in the nets. His ass and hips were bruised black and blue with how much he fell as water splashed into the boat and under his boots. And if he was honest, it was taking a lot more effort than he was comfortable with to get his eyes to keep focus. 

His limbs were heavy as he said goodbye to the old man, who thanked him again for his help. 

He hadn’t seen the others, other than coming home late and peeking around the room to count them and make sure they were all home safe. He would glance in as he left in the morning, too. He’d even seen Jongho in there a couple of nights, and that was a huge concern, but Hongjoong never had time to really check in on it. He just hoped the others could handle it until he had a day off.

He hadn’t seen Seonghwa in almost two weeks now. 

One night, San had still been up, and told Hongjoong he’d only stopped in once to tell them he might not be around. 

Hongjoong was getting scared. 

He dragged his feet towards home, kicking aside a pebble as he rubbed his hands together uselessly. He just hoped Yunho didn’t mind him using as a human heater when he got home. It was the kind of cold that didn’t even make him shake. It was just a bone deep chill that seeped through any clothing you put on. 

He breathed out harshly, seeing his breath fog up in the air as a shiver ran through him as a breeze blew through. 

“Jesus, Hongjoong…” 

His head jerked up, and he saw Seonghwa standing at the gate that lead out of the docking area, a coat wrapped up to his neck, and his eyes wide and desperate as he stared at Hongjoong. 

And even if time hadn’t changed a single visible thing about Seonghwa, Hongjoong knew something was different. 

But Seonghwa rushed forward, already unbuttoning his coat. “Christ- Hongjoong, you look like a drowned cat, you’re fucking soaked-” 

Hongjoong tried to resist as Seonghwa unzipped his jacket, pulling the sopping wet weight off his shoulders and letting it hit the ground with a wet splat. 

When Seonghwa began to take off his own coat, Hongjoong placed his frigid hands over his, stopping him. “Seonghwa, don’t- It’ll get wet-” 

Seonghwa pushed his hands away, already slipping off and throwing it over Hongjoong’s shoulders, buttoning it up quickly. 

Fuck, it was so warm. It almost hurt against the coldness of his skin. 

Seonghwa’s hands grasped Hongjoong’s icy ones, rubbing them gently, trying to fight some heat into them- 

Even out here, Seonghwa was still warmer. 

Hongjoong was busy searching his face, looking for any new bruises, any make up to try and hide the marks. 

Seonghwa was focused intently on Hongjoong’s hands that were swallowed by his own. It was still freezing, but the coat was still warm from Seonghwa’s body heat. 

Seonghwa abandoned his hands, pulling the long sleeve of his shirt over his hand and wiping the water mist off of Hongjoong’s face gently, pressing there for a moment to warm his cheeks- 

He was so fucking warm. It wasn’t fair. 

He ran fingers through Hongjoong’s hair. “You look like you stepped out the shower,” he muttered under his breath, shaking and squeezing water from Hongjoong’s hair. 

Hongjoong’s eyes closed gently. He wanted to fight Seonghwa, to push him away and tell him he was fine, that he didn’t need him to baby him, he didn’t need to be taken care of- 

But he was so tired and so cold and… 

Fuck, he hadn’t seen Seonghwa in weeks, and he  _ missed  _ him. 

Hongjoong didn’t want to be taken care of. He had lived this life long enough, he didn’t need it. He knew how to push through things, he knew how to make sure everyone was getting what they needed, he knew how to suck it up and shove down any part of him that tried to complain. 

But sometimes, Seonghwa tried his hardest to make Hongjoong forget that. 

Hongjoong didn’t mind letting Seonghwa in. Didn’t mind sharing his worries or talking things through with him. Things he didn’t want to worry the others with. He didn’t mind letting some of the exhaustion show through around Seonghwa, he didn’t mind complaining about his joints aching or his head pounding after too long without eating. 

His issue came in when Seonghwa tried to fix it. 

Hongjoong didn’t know why, but he just couldn’t stand it when Seonghwa would start telling Hongjoong to slow down, this and that about his health, little nudges and full-blown shouts about how stupid he was being. 

Even taking a sandwich from him felt wrong. 

And even now, with Seonghwa fussing over Hongjoong, acting as if he were someone who needed to be taken care- it made his skin crawl slightly. 

But he was… so tired. 

A hand tapped his cheek. “Hongjoong?”

His eyes flew open, and Seonghwa was frowning at him in concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, warm hand still searing against Hongjoong’s cheek. 

Hongjoong swallowed and nodded, pulling Seonghwa’s hand away. “Fine,” he said, voice a little hoarse from the cold. “Just tired. I was heading home.” His jaw tightened to keep his teeth from chattering. “What are you doing here?” 

Seonghwa clearly didn’t believe him, but he didn’t fight him at the moment. “I snuck out,” he said plainly. “My father’s been basically confining me to the house, but tonight, I…” He paused for a minute. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

Hongjoong’s chapped lips smiled tiredly. “I always am.” 

Seonghwa didn’t. “No, you’re not.” It was short. Almost a snap, but not quite. Hongjoong frowned, but Seonghwa bent down, picking up Hongjoong’s soaking jacket, and his other hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s. “But let’s just get home, okay?” 

He started to pull Hongjoong along. “The warehouse is past your house,” Hongjoong said. “Don’t walk me all the way there, just to have to come back.” 

“I want to walk with you,” Seonghwa said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “I haven’t seen any of you in a while.” 

“You don’t have a jacket,” Hongjoong fought, resisting his tug for a moment, tired but knowing this. “Just split off when we reach your area. You shouldn’t have even come out this late by yourself. Especially if he’s going to be pissed that you-” 

Seonghwa slowed to a stop, and Hongjoong did the same, trailing off abruptly. Seonghwa stared at the sidewalk in front of them for a moment before swallowed thickly, looking back up stiffly. 

His eyes were misty. Pained. 

“Do you want me to just go?” he offered, voice a little thicker. Hongjoong’s throat closed up. “I just…” Seonghwa made a helpless gesture with his hands. “I just wanted to make sure you getting home, but if you want some alone time or if you just think it was pointless, I’ll leave you to- to just walk home alone, okay?” 

He sounded like something inside of him was trying very hard not to break. 

Hongjoong was terrified. 

“What happened?” he asked, Seonghwa facing away from him and breathing out slowly, rubbing at his eyes. “Seonghwa, what did he say-” 

“What  _ doesn’t  _ he say?” Seonghwa snapped, voice breaking in the middle of it, tearing his hand away from Hongjoong who stared. “It doesn’t fucking  _ matter _ , Hongjoong,” he said, voice ringing in the nighttime. “It doesn’t matter what the fuck I do or what I decide, everything is already too fucked to ever be fucking fixed!” 

Hongjoong’s stomach rolled dangerously as Seonghwa fell silent, pressing a hand over his eyes. 

Please, do not cry, Hongjoong begged. 

Please, just let it all out, he hoped. 

Seonghwa took several shaking breaths, shaking his head sharply. “It’s late,” he croaked, not looking at Hongjoong. “It’s cold, we should just go.” 

Hongjoong couldn’t move. Seonghwa’s eyes were red, but they were dry. 

“Seonghwa…” 

He waved a hand, not facing him once again. “Hongjoong, I really don’t want-” 

“You never want to talk about it,” Hongjoong fought. 

“And you never want to just  _ accept  _ someone’s fucking help, Hongjoong!” he snapped, turning back around sharply. Hongjoong flinched. “You can’t sit here and beg me to talk about it, to just let you help, when you make me fight you tooth and nail to give you a fucking  _ sandwich _ , Hongjoong!”

The shouts echoed into the night until they faded into silence. 

Hongjoong watched Seonghwa, brow pinched because this was… this was different. A different kind of fight. 

“What did your father say?” he practically whispered. He was not afraid of Seonghwa. But he was afraid of whatever was going through his head. 

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, turning away. “This isn’t what we’re talking about-” 

“Yes, it is,” Hongjoong pushed, stepping after Seonghwa who had begun to walk away. “Because if it wasn’t something big, you wouldn’t be acting like this-” 

“This isn’t something  _ new _ !” Seonghwa burst, turning back to glare. “Do you honestly believe that every time I’ve let you win an argument, it’s because I  _ agreed  _ with you?” he demanded. “I’ve been  _ begging  _ you- I’ve  _ begged  _ you, Hongjoong- to just let me fucking help, to do  _ something _ , and each time you act like a toddler throwing themselves on the ground until they get what they want!” 

Seonghwa was angry. 

That was a new emotion to Hongjoong. 

Frustrated, yes. Loud and shouting, yes, but it had never been a true anger. 

Not at Hongjoong. 

“Ever since the beginning you’ve acted as if my life was so horrible compared to yours,” Hongjoong said quietly. Slowly. Voice heavy and thick. “But I’m not the one trapped in hell, Seonghwa. I’m happy.” 

“You’re  _ killing yourself _ ,” Seonghwa pressed, placing his hand against Hongjoong’s chest and pushing. 

It wasn’t even that hard a shove, but Hongjoong stumbled back, sore and numb legs not keeping up. He would have fallen flat on his back had Seonghwa not immediately grabbed onto the front of his coat and pulled him upright. 

He landed against Seonghwa chest, heart racing from the scare, and even as he saw Seonghwa’s eyes still alight with anger and frustration, he pulled him further until he was crushing Hongjoong against his chest, cold nose burying against Hongjoong’s neck as he embraced him. 

Hongjoong stared in shock over his shoulder, the rapid change in position and emotions making him dizzy. It was equal parts instinct and steadying that he grabbed onto Seonghwa, eyes closing. 

Two weeks may not be so many days, but after so long of existing within moments of each other, and with Seonghwa not around the one time Hongjoong didn’t want to admit he needed him, it was… 

It was honestly a little sad how quickly Hongjoong melted against Seonghwa, his warmth and presence against him something Hongjoong had… he had missed it. 

He had missed Seonghwa. And he hated nothing more than the times when the two of them could find nothing to say but shouts. 

Hongjoong never said it aloud.

Never even let the thought cross his mind. He was too afraid to. 

Because he was terrified that he needed Seonghwa for something worse than food or clothing. Hongjoong was terrified of needing him a way that required Seonghwa’s presence. 

Because Seonghwa had made it very clear that he was never going to get that. He couldn’t, until Seonghwa left, and he was never going to leave. 

He was going to stay trapped in that hell. For them. As if that made him noble. 

_ Hypocrisy is not the same thing as nobility.  _

Hongjoong tucked his head into Seonghwa’s shoulder, both of them acting as shields against the wind. 

“Please,” Seonghwa breathed, words tickling his ears. “ _ Please _ , Hongjoong, just… just stop thinking you have to do it all. Just…  _ let me help _ .  _ Please, Hongjoong _ .” 

It echoed in his chest, climbing up his throat. 

Hongjoong always knew it hurt Seonghwa when he did the things he did. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t feel guilt for it. 

God, did he feel guilt. 

But he.. He couldn’t just change who he was. At his core, it had been so long… it had been so long that it was just him looking out for himself. And then it was him looking out for Wooyoung and Yeosang, and then San showed up, and Yunho, and Jongho and Mingi and  _ Seonghwa-  _

Always looking to him. 

Hongjoong squeezed his eyes shut, fingers digging into the back of Seonghwa’s shirt as something rose in the back of his throat. 

“I don’t…” His voice caught in his chest. “I don’t know  _ how _ .” 

It was a breath. Maybe lost in the wind. Hongjoong couldn’t even be sure he really said it, or if it was just something he wished Seonghwa could hear. 

Through the thick coat, he could feel Seonghwa’s hands shaking. He let go of a warm breath against Hongjoong’s neck, making him shiver. 

He didn’t know how. Didn’t know how to look at what Seonghwa did and see it for what it was: someone with excess trying to give to someone without. 

Hongjoong had never seen it as pity. 

But he knew that every act for them was a potential risk from his father. And after getting caught with food… the bruise that was probably only just healed… they felt like brands against Hongjoong’s skin. 

How dare he ask Soenghwa to risk that? How dare he let him? His situation was bad enough as it was- 

“ _ Try _ ,” Seonghwa begged, voice low enough that Hongjoong would have missed it, had he not been pressed to his ear. “Please, Hongjoong, if you’re going to keep doing this, just  _ try  _ to let me in.” 

Seonghwa was always in. 

Hongjoong had never had a single reservation about letting him in. He had entered and permeated every part of Hongjoong, filling in cracks with liquid gold that replaced the parts he had forgotten ever used to be there. 

He had snuggled in, wrapped around everything, too close to vital organs for Hongjoong to ever consider removing. 

He threaded through Hongjoong, pieces of him and pieces of Seonghwa woven together in a mat that wouldn’t tear, no matter how hard he pulled. 

It was why they made it through the fights. Why even as they screamed at each other, they embraced. Why even though they glared and snapped at each other, for their own reasons, they always gravitated back towards each other. 

It was why even their own prides couldn’t force them apart. 

Not Seonghwa’s stubbornness. Not even Hongjoong’s desire to be difficult. 

“I… Accepting things from you…” 

The words wouldn’t come. Hongjoong choked on them. 

He couldn’t make Seonghwa understand. They came from two separate worlds. Their minds were wired two different ways. Their experiences colored them two separate hues that never quite matched. 

“I…” 

Seonghwa’s hand stroked up his back, Hongjoong’s tongue dying for a moment before he cleared his throat. 

“I would rather die…” His voice was thick. “I would rather die… free and happy on the streets… than live a single day in a hell disguised as a home. I lived that life, and I… I can’t stand to see you forcing yourself to stay… when you could be happy. You  _ said  _ you would be happy… with us.” Seonghwa had promised they would be happy. 

Each word fell like rocks splashing in water, rings of ripples running into each other, crossing paths, cutting each other off, creating a chaotic symphony that made their ears ring. 

Seonghwa was stiff against him, hard planes against Hongjoong’s borrowed, soft coat. His fingers dug comfortingly into Hongjoong’s sides, holding tightly. 

“You…” Seonghwa wet his lips, breath hitching in Hongjoong’s ear. “You can’t tell me… that were our situations reversed… that you would not hold on as long as possible… just to make sure you made it another day. Another season. You can’t tell me that you wouldn’t think it was worth it.” 

Hongjoong wanted to snap back: “ _ It isn’t worth it _ !” 

But somehow… this was the one lie that caught in Hongjoong’s throat. He sucked in a deep breath (Seonghwa smelled like fabric softener and something minty) and shut his eyes tighter. 

They were both at a stalemate. 

Because they were both right. 

And they both knew it. 

Hongjoong took a shaking breath, feeling something building behind his eyes, but he forced it down. He didn’t feel like things were breaking, but he felt like he was teetering on the edge of something huge. 

Something dangerous. 

“Stop acting like it doesn’t bother you,” Hongjoong whispered, face pressed to Seonghwa’s neck. . 

“Stop acting like you’re always okay,” Seonghwa breathed, arms tightening around him until it was almost uncomfortable. 

They both expected too much of each other. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa murmured, pulling away, just enough to look Hongjoong in the eyes. 

The wind was cold as it blew between them. Seonghwa’s eyes were red, his nose and cheeks pink from the cold, his hands shaking where they held Hongjoong’s waist. 

They were entirely too close, despite having been closer only minutes ago. 

Seonghwa was staring. Hongjoongs felt like someone had taken hold of his vocal chords, stopping them from vibrating, from letting him speak. He could only stare back. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were heavy, desperate, like trying to say something but never having enough words. They flickered over Hongjoong’s face, leaving burning trails over his skin. 

A breeze tickled the back of his neck, making him shiver. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were back on his, locked into place like trying to pull apart two pieces that had clicked together. 

“Hongjoong…” 

It was almost lost in the wind. Hongjoong’s stomach flipped as Seonghwa’s hand shifting to hold the small of his back, resting there for a moment as he searched Hongjoong’s face once more. 

Hongjoong didn’t know what he was looking for. 

But he was not surprised by his next action. 

He could have never guessed what Seonghwa wanted, but not a single part of him was surprised when Seonghwa tugged him forward. 

Hongjoong didn’t fight for a single moment when Seonghwa’s lips pressed against him, cold and chapped, but soft and gentle, like Hongjoong was somehow able to break just from that pressure. 

He was pinned to Seonghwa by the hand on the small of his back, head tilted back to reach him, and Hongjoong’s fingers twisting in the back of his shirt. 

He no longer felt the cold wind blowing around them. 

His eyes slid closed, body relaxing in Seonghwa’s hold as the other held Hongjoong closer. 

His lips were gentle still as their noses brushed when he began to move, goosebumps erupting over his flesh as one of Seonghwa’s cold hands rest over the skin of his neck. He breathed against Hongjoong’s mouth, like a sigh of relief, before he felt the barest sensation of Seonghwa pressing forward. 

Hongjoong followed willingly, his mouth falling open slightly as Seonghwa deepened the kiss, holding him tighter, his tongue warm as he explored Hongjoong’s mouth, Hongjoong shivering for reasons unrelated to the cold. 

There was no panic in his blood. Not a moment of hesitation. 

If you had asked him if this was something he wanted, he would have laughed and shrugged. 

In the moment, there was no other answer in his mind. 

Seonghwa was warm, even the parts of him that were chilled from the cold. They both existed in a bubble that didn’t worry about something as trivial as the weather. The heat of their bodies mingled, rising into the air and intertwining as a soft noise caught in Seonghwa’s throat that raced through Hongjoong. 

What a sight they must look. One of them in nothing but a long shirt and jeans, the other bundled up and soaked, wrapped around each other as tightly as their physical limitations would allow. 

Hongjoong tipped over that edge. He was slammed in the chest with the fact that he had been correct: he had convinced himself that he didn’t need Seonghwa’s help. But he always knew that there were other ways he had always needed Seonghwa. He tripped and tumbled down, falling down holes and off cliffs until he landed right where he always wound up. 

Right next to Seonghwa. 

They pulled apart when they could no longer go without breathing, panting fogs of breath into each other, noses still brushing as their breaths condensated between them. 

Neither let go. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were half-closed, a little far away, but Hongjoong didn’t have any doubt that he was looking at anything but him. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Seonghwa breathed, chest rising and falling against Hongjoong’s. 

Hongjoong swallowed, face heated, body running like a heater as if he had just sprinted across the city. He wet his lips, not quite able to get enough air. “How long have you been waiting to do that?” he asked, voice hoarse. 

It had been years. 

Seonghwa said nothing for several moments, almost looking scared. “I don’t know.” 

Hongjoong was afraid to look away. “Was it a long time?” 

“I… I don’t know.” 

“Would you do it again?” 

Seonghwa swallowed. “In a heartbeat.” 

Hongjoong pushed up on his toes, sealing their lips together again, heating racing between them once more- 

Both of Seonghwa’s arms wrapped around him, legs bumping as they tried to get closer, closer- 

Hongjoong dropped one of his hands from Seonghwa’s shirt, bringing it to drag up his chest until he curled it around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, feeling something heavy and dense settle in his chest. 

Something clicked into place. 

And fear suddenly grabbed his heart. Squeezing and twisting until he couldn’t breathe and he had to pull away, his head falling onto Seonghwa’s chest, breath coming in short pants that didn’t seem to be giving him anything to actually breathe. 

Seonghwa’s hand was a comforting weight against his back, grounding, but the reminder only made Hongjoong clench his eyes shut. 

Seonghwa was… important to him. He always had been. But before, Hongjoong could play some sort of game and be okay with convincing himself that Seonghwa was doing this all for them, that he could wait until Seonghwa decided he would run. 

It felt like a wave catching him in the face, choking and yanking him forward- 

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa’s voice was quiet, lilted with concern at his silence. 

Hongjoong crushed the fabric of his shirt in his fists, eyes clenching shut. 

He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t sit by and watch him stay in that hell… telling himself that it was for Hongjoong and the others. 

The wind was cold. 

“Come to the warehouse,” Hongjoong whispered, swallowing. “Please, Seonghwa, just leave, I can’t-” He was so fucking selfish. “I can’t keep watching you go back there.”

When he convinced himself to look up, Seonghwa stared at him with shattered eyes. 

“Or- if you’re afraid of him finding you, we’ll leave,” Hongjoong said in a desperate rush. “We’ll take everyone and we’ll find another city- somewhere smaller. Where people don’t care so much. We can just  _ leave _ , Seonghwa, there’s nothing keeping us here, there’s no reason to fucking stay in this  _ fucking hell- _ ” 

Seonghwa’s lips cut him off, firm and cold, holding Hongjoong close, hand almost painful on his hip, and Hongjoong clung back to him, something clogging his chest and making it hard to breathe. 

Just leave. 

Seonghwa pulled away, but their foreheads remained pressed together. 

Hongjoong shook from the cold and fear. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were closed tightly, like he was trying to block something out. 

Hongjoong watched the tight pinch of his face tighten, his heart twisting as he slowly lifted a hand, cupping Seonghwa’s cheek gently, both of their skin icy. 

Seonghwa leaned into the touch, eyes only closing tighter, lips thinning. 

“We’ll take care of it, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispered, voice dipping dangerously. “You don’t have to stay there for us. We don’t  _ want  _ you to. It’ll work out, I promise, just… just  _ please  _ get out of there.” 

Seonghwa swallowed, remaining very still. He let out a breath that shook, a shiver running down his body. 

They needed to get home. 

His eyes cracked open, looking at Hongjoong with a weight Hongjoong wasn’t sure Seonghwa was strong enough to bear without cracking. 

Hongjoong stared back, eyes pleading and begging, scared and desperate. 

He was freezing. 

Seonghwa was silent, closing the miniscule space between them with a gentle press of his lips to Hongjoong’s, barely there and then gone, but he didn’t move back, resting against him. 

Hongjoong waited with bated breath, ice creeping slowly through his veins as Seonghwa leaned into him. 

“After winter,” Seonghwa breathed. 

Hongjoong chest tightened. 

Seonghwa opened his eyes, a million emotions rushing past in a blur that made Hongjoong feel ill, his hands on Hongjoong desperate and tight, as if afraid he would pull away. 

Hongjoong would never. 

“After winter,” He repeated, voice so quiet it was almost lost. “I’ll leave after winter, but not before, Hongjoong. I-” He shook his head, short and soft. “Not with you pulling this sort of work, I’m not going to leave you without something to fall back on.” He pressed his lips together, expression unreadable and a million miles away. “I’ll leave after winter.” 

Hongjoong wanted to shake him. Hit him. Shove him. 

Just  _ leave _ . Stop thinking about  _ everyone else _ , just fucking  _ leave _ . 

_ Please _ . 

Please. 

But he grabbed Seonghwa’s hand, squeezing it. “Promise,” he whispered, eyes hard as he laced their fingers. “Promise me, Seonghwa,” he demanded. “That you’ll leave once winter passes.” 

Seonghwa looked for a moment as if he wouldn’t. 

If he didn’t, Hongjoong didn’t know what he was going to do, but it wasn’t going to be good for either of them. 

Hongjoong was pulled forward once more, but instead of a kiss, Seonghwa embraced him, face buried in his neck once more that night, bodies crushed together like any space between them would break them. 

“I promise,” He breathed, warm breath tickling Hongjoong’s neck. “I promise, once winter is over, I’ll be with you.” 

Hongjoong’s heart skipped a beat as he nodded slowly. 

They just had to make it through the winter. They just needed to survive a few months. They had made it through so many, this one should be easy. 

Hongjoong breathed deep, shoving back the emotions that threatened to spill over. 

“You’d better,” he whispered. 

He couldn’t feel relief. He tried, but the lightness never came. His chest was a million times heavier, but he clung to Seonghwa, hoping he could help hold the weight. 

Seonghwa was going to leave. He tried to hold onto that, to plaster it across his mind.  _ Seonghwa was going to leave _ . 

They just had to make it through the cold. 

Who ever said hell was covered in flames? 

~~~~~~

Wooyoung rubbed Yeosang’s hands between his. 

“Can you stop?” Yeosang sighed, staring at him, unimpressed. “We’re in public.” 

“We’re also alone,” Wooyoung pointed out, blowing on the hands, making Yeosang glare slightly. “And you’re the one who decided to skateboard for two hours when it’s supposed to  _ snow  _ tonight.” He gave his own unimpressed look to Yeosang. 

“I can’t skateboard in the snow, can I? I have to do it now.” 

“I rather like your hands,” Wooyoung huffed. “I’d prefer if they kept all their fingers attached, instead of freezing them off.” 

The skatepark was deserted. It closed during the winter months, and Yeosang loved that fact because they could go out during the day and skate without anyone being around to stare at them. 

“Okay,” he said, snatching his hands back from Wooyoung. “I want to go a little more before we have to go back.” 

Wooyoung sighed, but waved him off, settling back against the side of the ramp as Yeosang raced off and started doing all his little tricks. It was strange being here in the daytime, but he could see Yeosang better than the dim evenings or late nights. 

He looked free here. 

Maybe his expression hadn’t changed. 

But he was free here. 

Wooyoung couldn’t think about where they had come from. He couldn’t think about how far they’d come. He’d accidentally done that once, and it took Yeosang the better part of the day to get him to stop crying like a little bitch. 

He couldn’t think about Yeosang being able to smile again- even if out of habit, he still didn’t, usually. 

He didn’t need to. Wooyoung knew. 

Having only each other… was the best thing that could have happened to either of them. And despite Wooyoung already slowly falling for Yeosang when they left, it only grew tenfold when they were finally able to exist without being hunted. 

Yeosang’s ears, cheeks, and nose were pink from the rushing wind as he skated, but he looked happier than ever. 

He rolled back over to Wooyoung after a few more minutes, a brightness in his eyes that couldn’t be found anywhere but here. 

“Let’s go,” Wooyoung said, rolling his eyes. “Now that you’ve made me stand here for hours.” 

“You could have left any time,” Yeosang said, kicking the board into his hand as they walked. 

Yes. Wooyoung could have left any time. Yeosang could have, too. 

Neither of them ever did. 

Wooyoung climbed the fence first, Yeosang glaring at him in warning, as he always did as he tossed his board over the fence. Wooyoung had done this enough, he could catch it with his eyes closed, but Yeosang always acted as if it was the first time. Yeosang dropped down beside him, taking the board back. 

They walked, jackets zipped up tightly, and Yeosang idly flicked the wheels of his board, watching it spin. 

“I might need to find some new wheels, soon,” He murmured, still staring at it. “These are wearing down too much. I could feel it while I was riding.” 

Those wheels had lasted him for almost a year after they found some half-used ones in a dumpster to replace his first set that came with the board. 

The board Wooyoung had gotten him. 

It had taken him almost a year of them being on their own to save up, bit by bit, even as he had to keep taking away when they would start running low on their own funds. And one day, he walked into the skate shop, the old man at the counter eyeing him as if he were going to grab something and run. 

And maybe half of it was paid in coins, and the man seemed pissed at him, but Wooyoung walked out with the board in his arms like it was made of glass. 

And Yeosang… 

Years later, they looked back on it and laughed at how Yeosang’s stoicism had completely fallen away into disbelieving shock. At the time, though, Wooyoung had started crying even as he laughed lightly when Yeosang kept looking between him and the board. 

_ “What is this?” he whispered, voice hoarse. Quiet shock that radiated to his core.  _

_ Wooyoung wet his lips nervously. “A skateboard.” Yeosang’s hand floated towards it, like he was afraid to actually touch it. “To… I mean, to replace the one that Junhee broke.”  _

Wooyoung had been worried that Yeosang would be mad at him for saving so much money that they could use for themselves, but the moment his eyes fell on it, Wooyoung knew there was no danger of that. __

If Wooyoung had held it like it was glass, Yeosang stared at it as if it were made of gold, eyes wide as Wooyoung passed it over to him, running his hands over the wheels and wood. 

_ “How…”  _

_ And then the tears started to fall. Fast and relentless, Yeosang had hugged him for hours, not even able to whisper a thank you as he just cried in Wooyoung’s arms. And Wooyoung wasn’t afraid to admit he cried too because…. Yeosang was crying. He was  _ happy. __

Even he couldn’t have understood what the board would mean to Yeosang. He knew that the old one was precious because of his parents, but Wooyoung knew he liked boarding in general, so he wanted to give him that. 

Even today, he perhaps couldn’t fully grasp what that board meant to Yeosang, what meaning he had assigned it. But he knew it went beyond a reminder of what he once had from his parents. He knew that he was mixed in there, somewhere in the meaning. There was the weight of sacrifice there, in what he had given up during that year to save the money. A weight of affection, because really the whole reason he did it… 

He just wanted Yeosang to be happy. After so long, they were happy, but he wanted to  _ give  _ him something after he had taken so much away. 

“We’ll find some,” Wooyoung promised. 

Yeosang hummed. “It’ll start icing soon, so I can’t skate. There’s no rush, we can wait.” 

“Maybe we can check out the trash for the skate shop on the other side of the city, if Hongjoong lets us go that far.” His own expression fell at the name. “Do you think he’s doing okay?” 

None of them had seen more than a few minutes of Hongjoong at a time over the past couple of weeks, and when they did catch a glimpse of him… it wasn’t looking very good. 

And even Yeosang, who had assured Wooyoung that everything would work out, was beginning to look grim as his lips pressed together. “Seonghwa hasn’t been around.” 

Wooyoung’s stomach dropped. “Yeah,” He muttered, answering his own question. 

Everyone knew that Hongjoong stretched himself thin. 

Everyone knew that the best thing that could happen to Hongjoong was Seonghwa. 

But Hongjoong was pushing his limits, and none of them could do anything about it, and Seonghwa was… 

Something was happening with Seonghwa. 

“Maybe we should stay up and check on him?” Wooyoung questioned. “Just to make sure.” 

Yeosang nodded slowly. “We can.” 

The others were gathered at the warehouse, and everyone killed time together, crumpling pieces of paper and trying to hit the little targets they made out of old chip wrappers. 

Wooyoung was hungry, he noted idly. 

By the time night came, and the temperature dropped further, they had begun to see snow flurries. 

“It would look a lot prettier if it weren’t so fucking cold,” San muttered from where he slid beneath a blanket, curling around Mingi and shivering. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung huddled together in the pile of bodies, Yunho squishing them against the others, and it was at least warm enough that they would make it through the night. Yeosang and he didn’t close their eyes. They faced each other, silent as the others fell asleep, but neither of them were in any danger of falling asleep themselves. 

Worry made sure that didn’t happen. 

Wooyoung watched through the window as the moon rose higher and snow fell harder, wincing with concern. “Should we go try and meet hyung at the docks?” Wooyoung whispered, courteous of the others trying to sleep around them. “It’s snowing harder.” 

Something not quite fear dug at his chest, and Yeosang glanced out of the window. “He usually gets home around midnight. He’s probably on his way back, we should just wait. If he wound up taking a different way home than us, we might miss him.” 

It was always dangerous to try and meet if the person wasn’t expecting you. They had no way to contact each other, other than being where they assumed they would be. 

And Hongjoong would assume that they were home and in bed. So they stayed. 

And then the moon started to sink lower into the sky. Snow blankets the ground, a few inches deep. 

Hongjoong still was not home. 

Wooyoung’s stomach twisted. “Yeosang-” 

“He might have gotten held up,” he whispered quickly. “Maybe the old man kept him longer. We can’t just go wandering around in the snow at night, looking for him.” 

Wooyoung didn’t bother pressing. He could see the fear in Yeosang’s eyes, even if his face didn’t say it. 

_ I can’t lose anyone else.  _

The moon disappeared onto the horizon. 

Yeosang rolled over, shaking Yunho lightly, who awoke with a small noise of surprise before sighing sleepily. “Wha’?” he murmured, rubbing at his eyes. 

“Hongjoong still isn’t home,” Yeosang whispered. “It’s almost morning.” 

The sleep cleared some from Yunho’s eyes as he sat up, scanning the room like Hongjoong might have come in and they missed it. He rubbed them again to clear the sleep away. “He’s not home?” 

Wooyoung sat up, too, shaking his head. “We were gonna wait, just to talk and make sure he was okay, but he hasn’t shown up. We’d have heard if he came in downstairs.” 

Yunho’s eyes darkened as he glanced around, chewing on his lip. “He might have stayed with the old man, if the snow was bad enough when he was set to leave. He might have offered Hongjoong to stay the night.” 

“Do you think Hongjoong would have accepted?” Yeosang posed, eyebrows twitching down with concern. 

No. None of them did. 

“We’re gonna check the road to the docks,” Wooyoung said firmly, shifting to get up. 

“Wait until morning, it’s-” 

“Yunho, it’s been hours since he was supposed to be back. What if something happened on the way?” he demanded. 

Yunho stared, lips pressed together in a clear indecisiveness: Let them go and find Hongjoong, or keep them where he knew it was safe. 

“Alright,” Yunho said finally, shoulders falling. “Go, but if you’re not back in an hour, I’m coming after you, and if you aren’t already dead, you  _ will be _ , got it?” 

Wooyoung nodded, slipping out from the covers and adjusting his jacket. “We’ll be quick,” he promised. 

It was fucking freezing. 

Yeosang and he walked as close as possible while also moving as quickly as possible, slipping here and there on ice that had formed and hidden itself in the snow. They kept glancing around, looking down certain alleys and dreading what they might find in one. 

He’ll be okay, he kept repeating to himself. Occasionally, he’d let it slip aloud: “He’s gonna be okay, Yeosang, you’ll see.” 

Both of them could tell he wasn’t as confident as he sounded. 

Everyone always came home. Even if it was late, they  _ always  _ came home. 

The docks were dark and silent. Empty. 

“We didn’t find him on the way here,” Wooyoung muttered, almost to himself. 

“Hongjoong said the old man was living in the houses near the docks. The last one,” Yeosang said, already moving towards them with a hurried purpose. 

_ I can’t lose anyone else.  _

Yeosang started banging on the door with a confidence Wooyoung wouldn’t have had at what was probably 3 AM. 

Wooyoung held his breath as the door jerked open, showing a disheveled old man, glaring through sleep. “What the hell are you doing, bangin’ on people’s doors-” 

“Are the man who employs Kim Hongjoong?” Yeosang demanded, voice colored with a desperation the old man probably wouldn’t pick up on. 

His eyes narrowed, either out of suspicion or just being blind. “Who’s askin’?” 

“We’re friends of his,” Wooyoung spoke up, moving forward. “He didn’t come home at all tonight. We wanted to know if you knew where he was.” 

The man’s bushy brows pulled down, and it was hard to tell if it was annoyance or just his face being old. “I sent him off near midnight. Didn’t see ‘im since.” 

Wooyoung’s stomach dropped as his heart clenched painfully. “You have no idea where he went?” Yeosang demanded, voice quick and scared. 

The man shrugged. “I told you what I did. Have you asked that other friend of his?” 

“ _ What other friend _ ?” Wooyoung demanded, perhaps a bit too harsh, but all of them had been at the warehouse. 

The man frowned at his tone. “The one who meets him here sometimes. Taller guy, skinny. Nice hair, I guess. Nicer clothes, too. About ye tall.” He held his hand out. 

Wooyoung frowned at Yeosang who’s mind was visibly racing. “Seonghwa?” Wooyoung asked. The description didn’t match Jongho, and there was no one else who should be meeting Hongjoong this late at night. 

“But Seonghwa’s been stuck at home,” Yeosang muttered, jaw tightening. “Has he been sneaking out?” 

“Are the two of you finished?” the old man asked. “May I return to the sleep you interrupted?” 

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said, voice heavy. “Thanks for your help,” he muttered, pulling Yeosang away. “Should we check if Seonghwa’s seen him?”

Yeosang nodded readily. “We have to hurry, or Yunho’s gonna get worried.” 

They moved faster this time, more familiar with the path to Seonghwa’s. 

It wasn’t often that they went into anyone’s homes. Mingi had been a good place to get fixed up when cuts and scrapes got a little too deep. His aunt kept a fucking hospital in her bathroom, given her tendency to freak out over germs. 

Jongho’s was good for showers, since his foster mom was easy to fool as long as Jongho was in the bathroom with them, answering that he just felt dirty and needed to take a shower at 1 AM. 

Seonghwa’s was sort of last resort, or a place that was meant to be a little more long term. 

Wooyoung wasn’t even sure Seonghwa knew where his mom was, or if she was even in the country. His dad traveled often for work, and on the days or weeks that he wasn’t there, it wasn’t unheard of for one or two of them to sleep at his house, especially if one of them was sick or nearing a breaking point in terms of work. 

But Seonghwa’s also had the most risk with it, given his dad’s tendency to return without warning. And his reaction, should he ever find out what Seonghwa was up to. 

But they slid and sped their way through the snow and ice, not even feeling the cold as Wooyoung tried not to broadcast his worry too much, squeezing Yeosang’s hand. 

If Seonghwa didn’t know where Hongjoong was… 

~~~~~~

Seonghwa stood at the gate to the inner docks, shivering slightly as a breeze blew by. 

Hongjoong stepped off the boat, bidding goodbye to the old man. 

He looked even smaller than usual, his shoulders fallen low and his expression flat even as he smiled at the old man. 

He walked away, rubbing at his face, feet dragging through the fallen snow that was stuck to his hair, melting as soon as it touched the wet strands that clung to his forehead. 

He walked almost like a drunk man, veering off to the right before he jerked himself back onto the path, legs stumbling. 

Seonghwa stepped forward, the jacket in his hands already being straightened out. 

Hongjoong didn’t even seem to notice him, almost running straight into him before he jerked back to attention, hazy eyes landing on Seonghwa and taking a moment to straighten. 

His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and when Seonghwa started pulling his soaked coat off, Hongjoong didn’t fight him, head dropping back down as Seonghwa pulled on the dry jacket, tucking it tightly around him. 

Seonghwa hadn’t been able to sneak out the past few nights, his father staying up late in preparation for leaving tonight, and Seonghwa had raced out of his room the moment his father’s car pulled away. It seemed like Hongjoong had done a shit job of taking care of himself in Seonghwa’s shorter absence. 

He was surprised when Hongjoong leaned forward, letting his head rest on Seonghwa’s chest, most of his weight leaning into Seonghwa, who shifted his feet to support him. 

“You look like shit, Hongjoong,” he said quietly, nothing amused in his voice. 

Hongjoong just made a vague noise, pushing off of Seonghwa with a groan that made it seem like he was lifting a hundred pounds. He didn’t look at Seonghwa. Just turned down the road and started dragging his feet towards the warehouse. 

Seonghwa followed quickly, eyes trailing up and down Hongjoong’s bent frame. 

“Hongjoong…” 

“Not tonight,” he whispered, voice hoarse and weak, staring at the ground. “Not tonight, Seonghwa, ‘m too tired to fight…” 

Seonghwa walked beside him, heart twisting. “I’m not looking to fight,” Seonghwa said quietly. “I just wanted to know what you need right now.” 

Seonghwa would carry him back to the warehouse if he asked him to. He would drag him, if he wanted. 

Hongjoong just sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t-” 

His leg slid out from under his, heel catching on a piece of ice or slick snow. He went down like a fallen mannequin, and Seonghwa’s arms shot out, grabbing his arm and waist to save him from hitting anything. 

Once Hongjoong was safely caught above the ice, his head fell slightly, like he couldn’t hold it up anymore. His hands grabbed at Seonghwa’s arms weakly, and Seonghwa slowly pulled him closer, helping him straighten and keeping him close to prevent another slip. 

“You okay?” he asked, leaning and trying to see Hongjoong’s face that was hung low. 

“I-” Seonghwa could feel the pull of Hongjoong’s body as he swayed. His fingers tightened their hold on Seonghwa, his breathing becoming irregular. “I’m…” 

Seonghwa was starting to worry. “Hongjoong, are you-” He brought a hand up to cup his cheek, wanting to guide his face up to see him, to see what he was feeling, but the moment their skin touched, he cut himself off. 

“ _ Jesus _ , Hongjoong, you’re burning up” he breathed, hand forcing Hongjoong’s head up, flushed cheeks and eyes closed. He brushed the hair that clung to his forehead back, and felt skin much too warm for how cold it was, for how cold the rest of him was. 

Hongjoong made a negative noise in the back of his throat, brow pulling down and he tried to pull away. “‘M not, ‘m just-” He cut off, taking a sharp breath and clinging to Seonghwa as he swayed again. “ I think ‘m gonna throw up,” He slurred, and Seonghwa cursed under his breath. 

What the fuck did he do? 

“Are you dizzy?” he asked, hand coming up to cup Hongjoong’s cheek again, and Hongjoong made a soft noise, leaning into the touch a little. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, and if he was admitting it, it was not good at all. 

“Come on,” Seonghwa said, “let’s get you to the warehouse, and we’ll figure out something, okay?” 

God, his skin was too fucking warm. Fevers weren’t uncommon for the winter, but Hongjoong seemed borderline delirious, so how long had he been like this, how long had he just not said anything to anyone- 

“Let’s go, Hongjoong,” He coaxed, trying to guide him along slowly. 

Hongjoong took three steps, leaning heavily on him, and his knees buckled. 

Seonghwa barely caught him, panic beginning to cloud his head as Hongjoong struggled to hold onto him, until he was basically limp in Seonghwa’s arms. The angle was too awkward to pull him up, and Seonghwa would up kneeling in the snow beside him. 

“Hongjoong, come on,” He urged, “we have to get out of the cold, come on-” 

“‘t’s spinning,” Hongjoong mumbled, head falling onto Seonghwa’s shoulder, eyes closed tightly. “I don’…” 

He let out a quiet breath, leaning more heavily against Seonghwa. 

This was not good. 

Seonghwa made a decision that wasn’t really with any other option. 

“Come on,” he said, keeping a hand on Hongjoong and shifting until his back faced him. “Hongjoong, you need to lean onto my back,” He urged. 

There was a soft movement against his back, weak and struggling, but Hongjoong managed to get in position for Seonghwa to get his hands under him and hold him against his back. 

It was dangerous, trying to stand in the slick ice and snow, but he managed to straighten without wiping the both of them out. 

Hongjoong was too light. His face pressed to Seonghwa’s neck, hiding from the wind, and it was a reminder of the burning going on beneath his skin. 

He moved as quick as he could without endangering them, heading down the street, through the back alleys, around the block and away from the outer edges of town. He didn’t go towards the warehouse. Despite the lack of weight he held, carrying Hongjoong across the city made his lungs burn for oxygen, but panic and fear made him keep moving until he reached a familiar street. 

He managed to get his door open, a burst of heated air hitting his frozen face, so fucking thankful his father wasn’t home, heading to his room and kicking the door open. 

He dropped Hongjoong onto his neat little bed, muscles almost giving out. 

Hongjoong didn’t move when he hit the bed rather roughly, bouncing on the springs, wet hair splaying out against the blankets. 

Seonghwa raced to his bathroom, shoving aside different medicines in his cabinet until he found the fever reducer he wanted, running back to his room where Hongjoong hadn’t even twitched. 

Seonghwa was afraid to feel fear. Because if he feared it, it might happen. So he hated that he was afraid for Hongjoong. Because that meant it was possible something might happen. 

He knelt on the bed, leaning over Hongjoong and touching his burning skin. 

“Hongjoong,” He coaxed, tapping the skin lightly when he didn’t respond. It took him shaking the other to get his eyes to flutter open, fever-hazy and dull, as if he wasn’t actually seeing whatever was in front of him. “I need you to drink this,” He said, holding the little cup of liquid medicine. “It’s for the fever.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes fluttered closed, and Seonghwa tapped his face again quickly perhaps a bit too roughly, but he was panicking because Hongjoong… 

He just hoped fever medicine was all he needed. 

His eyes half opened, and even if Seonghwa said nothing, when he pressed the cup to Hongjoong’s lip, tilting his head up, Hongjoong drank it, even if he did cough at the taste. 

Either he fell asleep or fell unconscious, Hongjoong’s eyes sliding closed and his body going alarmingly still and limp, and Seonghwa shoved down the part of him that wanted to keep shaking him awake. 

Seonghwa got to work, stripping off Hongjoong’s jacket and soaked shirt, feeling icy pale skin against his hands and he tugged his pants off as well. 

Now was not a time to be prude. 

He gathered his warmest pajamas that he hadn’t used in forever, since they got too stuffy, and pulled them onto Hongjoong’s limbs that gave him no resistance. He gently squeezed and rubbed his hair and face with a towel to get rid of as much moisture as possible, his heart pounding out a panicked march as he worked. 

Usually, one of the others would come to him, would ask for medicine or warmer clothes, for the sake of someone sick. 

Hongjoong had never fallen this sick this quickly, much less practically passing out into Seonghwa’s hands. 

Seonghwa rearranged him, tucking him firmly beneath the covers and rubbing against his limbs. 

His fever was high, but his body was cold- did Seonghwa warm him up or cool him down? 

He didn’t let himself think. Just raced into the kitchen, getting some water and some crackers, coming back up and finding Hongjoong still and silent. 

It had been a while since Seonghwa had seen him sleep. 

And surely, it would have been a much more satisfying sight, if not for the worrying flush to his face and the slightly-too-labored breathing coming from his chest. 

Dear God, please just let it be a bad cold or something. 

Seonghwa didn’t know what else to do. He just climbed into the small space Hongjoong’s body left open, pressing against him under the covers, warm skin pressed to ice as Seonghwa stared at nothing, trying to remain calm and not think of the worse. 

He was scared. 

This likely wasn’t something that would break overnight. Hongjoong would likely be out for a couple of days, at least. Would the old man keep him on after missing those days? Would Hongjoong allow himself to be put out for that long? 

Seonghwa ducked his head, resting it against Hongjoong’s shoulder. 

“Idiot,” he whispered. 

Seonghwa didn’t sleep. But he watched the clock on his bedside tick by hour after hour, and Hongjoong did not stir, save to flip onto his side, burrowing against Seonghwa and deeper into the blankets, arms curled up protectively to his chest. 

It made his heart twist. 

Seonghwa had met Hongjoong at the lowest point in his life. A point where he had been alone and wandering and just… stuck. 

And then a ratty looking stranger had knelt down beside him and asked him if he was okay. 

A stranger. Whom he’s never seen before. And Seonghwa, so lost in his own mind and anger and rebellion and heartbrokenness at his own father… 

Seonghwa clung to him. The bright, kind, selfless boy who smiled even when he didn’t want to. The one who held his hand out and invited Seonghwa to go walking around town with him. Who talked about every bitter, ugly part of his life with a grin of someone who was so untouched by it all, it wasn’t even worth his scorn. 

Seonghwa envied him so much, it felt like a physical pain at times. 

Who introduced him to other people who, despite their situations, were happier than Seonghwa had… 

Had ever been. 

And Seonghwa wanted that.  _ God _ , did he want it more than anything he’d ever wanted anything. More than he wanted his father to stop his stupid angry fights, Seonghwa wanted what they had. 

Happiness that came from nothing but each other. 

Happiness that didn’t need anything but each other. 

But Seonghwa… Seonghwa cared too much. Worried to much. He couldn’t leave. 

And while a part of him said he owed Hongjoong for everything he had done, the larger part of him was just terrified. Terrified of something happening. Of giving up what he had for the sake of being happy, but then… 

What if things went wrong? What if they needed something? What if someone got sick? What if food ran short or went rancid? 

Seonghwa stayed. For Hongjoong, who already worried about so much. Who calculated and re-calculated and still came up short every day, every week. Who shouldered things he shouldn’t and needed someone to share the burdens with. 

Even if one of those burdens was Seonghwa staying. Even if Seonghwa only added to his worries, he could at least be their safety net. 

Just a little longer, he would whisper to himself at night, wondering if the others were warm enough, safe enough. Hold on just a little longer. 

It was worth it, despite what Hongjoong thought. 

Seonghwa owed Hongjoong that much. 

It was a small price to repay what Hongjoong had given him. 

Seonghwa had never had a family before. 

_ Tap tap tap _ . 

Seonghwa jerked so hard, his knee hit Hongjoong’s hip, flipping over quickly towards the hard sound at his window, heart leaping at the sudden break in silence. 

He scrambled from the bed, adrenaline shoving him forward as he peered through the darkness. 

Wooyoung’s face peered back at him, pink from cold and scared. 

Seonghwa tore the window open, letting in a blast of frigid air. “What are you-” 

“Have you seen Hongjoong?” Wooyoung demanded, Yeosang appearing at his side, equally wet and snow-covered. “He didn’t come home tonight, and the old man said something about-” 

Seonghwa cursed so violently, Yeosang and Wooyoung jumped slightly as he hit his forehead roughly. 

In all his running around, he had completely, somehow, forgotten that others were expecting Hongjoong. 

“I’m sorry, I should have contacted you” he said quietly, voice quick. “I went to walk with him after work, and he was… he’s sick, I have him here right now-” 

“He’s okay?” Yeosang demanded, pushing Wooyoung aside a little to get closer. 

“I think he wound up passing out, and he’s got a fever,” Seonghwa said, glancing behind himself at the sleeping lump. “He was freezing, but I gave him some medicine, and I’m keeping him warm for now.” 

The relief on their faces only made Seonghwa more guilty at not contacting them. As if he was the only one worried for Hongjoong. 

“We stayed up to make sure he was okay, since we hadn’t seen him in a couple days,” Wooyoung told him. “When he didn’t show up, we were worried.” 

“He’s safe,” Seonghwa assured them. “I’m waiting until he wakes up again to see how bad it actually is, but he’s sleeping for now.” 

“Good,” Yeosang muttered. “Keep him that way.” 

Seonghwa inclined his head, taking in the snow still falling. “You guys come in, too,” He said. “At least get out of the snow for a while-” 

“Yunho’s expecting us back,” Wooyoung broke in, but he looked grateful. “He’s coming after us if we don’t get back soon, but thanks.” 

“Here,” Seonghwa said, ducking back inside and grabbing the pack of untouched crackers. “I’d heat you something up, but it would take too long, I guess.” 

Unlike Hongjoong, these two did not shove them away. Yeosang took them gratefully. “Thanks, hyung.” He glanced up at the fluttering snow, shivering a little. “Take care of him, okay?” Yeosang said. “Don’t let him go back, no matter how hard he fights. For all of us.” 

Seonghwa nodded, chest heavy. “Believe me, he’s not leaving that bed for at least 48 hours, I promise.” 

Wooyoung’s grin was wicked and tired. “Thanks again, hyung.” 

“You guys can stop by later if you want,” he assured them. “My father is out of town for the weekend.” 

“Will do,” Wooyoung said, giving a little salute. “We’ll head back now.” 

Yeosang gave him one more grateful, stoic nod, and Seonghwa watched them until they were gone, lowering the window and shaking off his own chill as he walked back towards the bed. 

He climbed back into the bed, arms slipping around Hongjoong to pull him closer. 

He had never had a family before. 

Hongjoong made a small noise, like he might be coming towards awake, but Seonghwa just hushed him quietly, hand rubbing warmth up and down his spine. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into his hair, not sure if Hongjoong were actually awake to hear him or not. 

Hongjoong’s head tucked beneath his chin, resting above his heartbeat. 

“I’ve got you,” he promised quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUN  
> I hope you enjoyed, and let me know what you think! Comments are my bread and butter!!  
> Have a great day, all you lovelies~~  
> -SS


	4. You Are My Wants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back again~~~  
> A little bit of a shorter one, but the next chapter is longer to make up for it! Not too eventful of a chapter but still important, I think!   
> Tell what you think, and have an amazing day!   
> -SS

Hongjoong woke up feeling like his blood had been replaced with cotton fluff. 

His head ached, his throat burned, and his stomach rolled with hunger as he opened scratchy eyes to a bright room. 

He closed them, a whimper stuck painfully in his throat as he curled away from the light, burying his head deeper into- 

It was warm. 

He sighed, pushing further, trying to let the warmth cover him completely after so fucking long of being so fucking cold. 

He took a deep breath that made his lungs burn, and he smelled something fresh and crisp like mint. He frowned slightly, trying to force his eyes open once more, but even in the dimmed light of whatever he was burrowed into, his eyes ached as he closed them again. 

Why did it smell like mint? 

“Are you awake?” Came the kind of quiet voice that accompanied trying not to wake someone. 

Seonghwa’s voice lilted comfortingly over Hongjoong’s ears, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel panic or concern. 

He forced his head back, eyes half-lidded, and saw a blurred shape that could be no one else. Seonghwa’s expression was a comforting soft, even if his eyes were tight with something darker. Hongjoong blinked, slow and painful. 

Seonghwa’s hand cupped his cheek, warm and soft, but Hongjoong had barely leaned into it before he was removing it, pressing the back of his hand to Hongjoong’s forehead. 

“I think your fever broke, at least,” he murmured, sounding relieved. 

Fever. 

Hongjoong swallowed, throat crackling painfully. 

_ Fuck _ . 

“What-” The word came out as a breathy hiss that made Hongjoong cough, an ugly hacking sound that made his chest burn. 

Seonghwa hushed him quickly, warm hand rubbing soothing circles into the spot just between his shoulder blades. “You’re okay,” he said quietly. “You’re at my house, but you’re okay, Hongjoong.” 

There was no way Hongjoong was ‘okay’ if he had wound up at Seonghwa’s house. 

He’d passed out. 

After everything Seonghwa had given and done for him, Hongjoong still wound up fainting into his arms like some fucking damsel in a fairytale- 

“Does anything hurt?” he asked, still rubbing those circles that were dangerously close to putting Hongjoong back to sleep. 

Everything hurt. But Hongjoong touched his throat even as he coughed again, tearing a sound from his chest that pinched violently. 

“Okay,” Seonghwa muttered, probably to himself. “Water, cough medicine, pain killers.” The hand on Hongjoong’s back stopped and the warmth began to withdraw. “Wait just a second,” Seonghwa told him, hand trailing over his arm. “I’ll be right back.” 

Hongjoong didn’t have the strength to fight him, even if he had wanted to. 

Seonghwa disappeared, and Hongjoong curled into the warm spot he had left behind, chest heavy and mind pleasantly foggy to keep the panic at bay. But even if there was no panic or violent reaction, the facts were still the same: he had fucked up. 

After everything Seonghwa had done for him, he still fucked up. 

He hadn’t felt so shitty in a long time. Hongjoong was sure that if he tried to force himself to his feet, he’d never make it to fully standing. 

Seonghwa was back within seconds (or maybe Hongjoong fell back asleep for a second) and two pills were pressed into his hand and a cup pressed into his other. 

It was fucking hell, Seonghwa helping him sit up enough not to choke, but the pills hurt going down, scratching at his throat that felt swollen. 

He laid back down, eyes already closing. He was so fucking tired. 

He had been so fucking tired for so fucking long. 

“‘M sorry,” he whispered, the words quiet and hissing. 

Seonghwa sat on the edge of the bed, and Hongjoong cracked his eyes open just enough to make out the heavy expression dragging his features down. He reached forward, taking Hongjoong’s hand into his warm ones. 

“Don’t be,” he said quietly, voice burdened. “Just sleep if you’re tired. You’re safe, Hongjoong, I promise.” 

This was a conversation that would happen later, he was sure. 

But Hongjoong was so tired. And it was so warm and so soft around him, cocooned in blankets and the scent of mint. 

Seonghwa lifted his hand, pressing a barely-there kiss to his hand. 

“Just rest for once,” He whispered, a plea, not a fight. 

Hongjoong didn’t have much choice. His eyes pulled down, and even if he had wanted to, he couldn’t stop himself from falling back asleep much too quickly. It made sense though. 

Seonghwa was there. Which meant it would be okay. 

~~~~~~

Hongjoong didn’t want to wake up. 

Waking up meant facing something he didn’t want to. 

But it was so warm, and there was no frigid breeze here or icy ocean spray hitting skin that had already turned numb days ago. No rocking boat that gave him sea sickness or heavy nets that made his back ache. 

It was just warm and soft and solid. 

But Hongjoong opened his eyes anyway. And he stared at the threads of a blanket that smelled of mint and fabric softener, and turned, wincing at the ache in his muscles. 

Everything still hurt, but it was like feeling it through a glass, like he was just observing. He still felt like he was stuffed full of cotton. 

He rolled onto his back, but was stopped by something behind him. He turned his head and saw Seonghwa pressed against his back, eyes closed and breathing soft. 

Guilt pressed at Hongjoong’s throat, threatening to make him choke. 

He was sorry to Seonghwa for a lot of things. All the time, he was sorry to Seonghwa, and yet somehow it still hurt worse than any sickness to know that even after everything Seonghwa had done for him- 

Everything he had  _ always  _ done for him. 

Hongjoong still couldn’t manage to stop relying on him. 

Seonghwa shifted, one hand dragging from his side to rest at the curve of Hongjoong’s waist, rubbing his thumb there gently. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, probably not even fully awake, but feeling Hongjoong shifting. 

Hongjoong’s aching throat closed up. “I know,” he whispered back. 

Seonghwa’s eyes fluttered open, still sleep hazy, and he frowned at Hongjoong before blinking and his eyes cleared a bit. “You awake?” he asked, voice rough from sleep. 

Hongjoong hummed, shifting so he could turn over without crushing Seonghwa. Seonghwa stretched, sitting up on his elbows to see Hongjoong’s face. He brought one hand up, touching Hongjoong’s cheek and forehead for a few moments. 

His shoulders visibly relaxed a tension that had been clinging to them. “Does anything hurt?” 

“Not so much,” Hongjoong rasped, voice feeling raw as he stared at the ceiling, unable to meet Seonghwa’s eyes. “Just achy and sore.” He glanced at the window and saw a dim light. He frowned. “What time is it?” 

“Almost 5,” Seonghwa said, sitting up fully. “You slept all day. I guess I wound up taking a nap, too,” he muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Are you hungry?” he asked, already standing. “I gave the crackers I got to Wooyoung and Yeosang-” 

“What?” Hongjoong croaked, rolling to keep Seonghwa in his vision. The others were here? 

Seonghwa paused by the door, frowning. “You basically fell unconscious while we were walking back from the docks,” he said, voice gentle. “I brought you back here because I didn’t want you getting worse and there was nothing for you at the warehouse. When you didn’t come home, Yeosang and Wooyoung went looking for you. The others know where you are now, and I gave them some food when they came by.” He waved a hand. “Give me a minute.” 

He disappeared out the door, and Hongjoong sank into the pillow, chest feeling like a weight had been placed atop it. 

There was a dark swirling of guilt and everything else in his stomach, he couldn’t even pick a single emotion to focus on. 

Seonghwa was back quickly, a steaming bowl in his hands. “Yunho and Jongho stopped by, too, while you were asleep,” he said as if he hadn’t even stopped speaking, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just checking in on you on Yunho’s way to work. I gave Jongho the fruit from downstairs to take back to the warehouse. If my father asks, I’ll just tell him I was feeling in a fruit mood while he was gone.” 

Hongjoong knew that even if that man did believe him, Seonghwa would not likely escape that unscathed- be it physical or not. 

Hongjoong closed his eyes for a moment, trying to breathe. 

Seonghwa’s hand touched his arm gently. “Put aside the guilt long enough to eat at least,” he said, something in his voice almost amused, and Hongjoong opened his eyes to stare at him, and Seonghwa offered him a wry, knowing smile. He lifted the soup bowl in his hands half-heartedly. 

Hongjoong sighed, and Seonghwa helped him sit up (ignoring the ache in his muscles that didn’t want it), propped up against pillows as he handed over the hot broth. 

There was too much silence as Hongjoong ate (the first hot thing he had eaten in probably months at this point), and usually he would be savoring it, but he barely tasted anything. 

“You scared the shit out of me, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quietly, staring at his knees when enough silence had passed to be uncomfortable. “But that doesn’t mean I want you making yourself sick again because you think all of this is some sort of failing on your part.” 

Seonghwa had been right before: Hongjoong could not afford to get sick. If he was actually going to be useful with this job, he would need to take care of himself. 

And he had tried. He had accepted all the jackets and gloves that Seonghwa pushed at him, he slept like a fucking rock, and he tried to keep eating on his walks to work. 

But sometimes, he was just too tired and food didn’t seem appealing, and sometimes sleep was slow to come with the low temperatures. 

And he had barely lasted three weeks. 

And then all of a sudden everything just fucking hurt, and he was stumbling as he walked, and the nets were almost too heavy to lift, and he was trying to walk and his mind just kept wandering off, and then suddenly he was waking up in Seonghwa’s bed, having scared him by his own inability to just fucking… 

Take care of himself. 

“Am I wrong?” Hongjoong murmured, voice too shot to go much higher than a breathy whisper. The broth tasted like ash. “You told me to take care of myself, and I still couldn’t.” 

“Hongjoong, you and I can talk ourselves in circles all fucking day,” Seonghwa said, voice shorter, but still gentle. “I’m not going to sit here and waste my breath. I’m not upset or disappointed that you were sick. I’m just scared for you, okay? I just wish someone had known that you had started feeling bad. I just want…” He hesitated, dropping his head to rub at his face, like he was tired. 

Hongjoong stopped eating, his stomach twisting. 

Seonghwa sighed. “You said that you didn’t know how… how to ask for help.” 

Hongjoong was suddenly standing at the dock yards again, Seonghwa begging him to just let him help, angry for the first time in their lives, and his lips pressed against H- 

Seonghwa wet his lips. “And I understand, Hongjoong, I  _ do _ . I may not agree, but I understand. But I’m going to say it again… because it’s  _ important _ .” His hand grabbed Hongjoong’s that had fallen uselessly by his side, holding it tightly. “You have to try,” he whispered, eyes shining painfully. “Because there was no way you didn’t know you were feeling like shit before last night. But no one knew, Hongjoong.” 

It wasn’t quite guilt, but it hurt, whatever it was burrowing in his chest. Maybe it was responsibility.

“You’re in a position now, Hongjoong, where you’re risking a lot,” Seonghwa went on, unrelenting. “What if my father hadn’t left last night and I couldn’t get out, like the last couple of nights?” he demanded. “There’s a million things that could have happened Hongjoong, because you can’t tell anyone when something is wrong.” 

Hongjoong felt like he was going to throw up all the soup he had just eaten. 

Seonghwa’s hand loosened its grip on his, but didn’t let go. His thumb brushed the back of his hand. “I…” 

Hongjoong glanced up at the quiet word, Seonghwa’s face a drawn line of a million emotions. He almost looked lost, as if he was reading a map that didn’t make sense. 

“We never really talked about… that night,” he said quietly, like he was afraid to speak too loudly. “When… I kissed you.” 

Hongjoong was going to throw up. 

Seonghwa just kept talking, not quite meeting Hongjoong’s eyes, ignorant to his churning soul. “And I don’t know what you took it to mean, or what it meant to you, but… I meant it as something serious, Hongjoong,” he whispered. “I’ve been saying it for fucking years, you-” He cut himself off. “You mean…  _ so fucking much  _ to me, Hongjoong. And you’ve done  _ so much _ for me, even if you never think you do, and-” 

He lifted his eyes, and when they locked onto Hongjoong’s suddenly, he felt like his lungs had just been squeezed of all air. Seonghwa was begging, but Hongjoong didn’t know what for. 

“I don’t know if you ever thought my actions towards you were just something I was trying to fill my time with… or if you thought they were simply pitying, but if this is what it takes to convince you, then it doesn’t matter. But I  _ care  _ about you, Hongjoong. And the thought that something might have happened last night,” he whispered. “That I wouldn’t have been there… and  _ no one  _ knew-” 

Seonghwa was hurting. Hongjoong was hurting him. Hongjoong had always been hurting him. 

“You mean so much to me,” Seonghwa breathed, expression twisted and voice thinned to the point of breaking. “And even if that’s not the same for you, I don’t want you to think-” 

“What fucking part of all this could ever make you think it’s not the same for me?” Hongjoong demanded, heart twisting painfully, unable to stop the ice inside of him from spilling out in words. 

Because Seonghwa was always trying to help, even at the expense of himself, staying in this hellhole, just for situations like this. Situations that Hongjoong kept creating. 

Seonghwa wouldn’t have to stay in this fucking shit hole if Hongjoong didn’t give him every reason to think they would need to be here. 

But Hongjoong… Hongjoong was weak. In every way, in every possible situation, he was so fucking weak. 

“I don’t like… _ needing  _ people,” Hongjoong murmured, tongue heavy as Seonghwa watched him, like waiting for something to break. “Needing  _ things _ .” He swallowed. “Because anything can get taken away.  _ That’s  _ what I’ve learned, Seonghwa.  _ Anything  _ can be taken away. And if you lose something that you  _ need…  _ what the hell are you supposed to do?”

If things and people were disposable, then it meant nothing when you lost them.

The first time that man had hit Seonghwa… Hongjoong knew they had entered into an entirely other game. A game he wasn’t personally acquainted with, but one he was intimately knowledgeable on. One he knew would never stay at one little slap. 

Seonghwa showed up with bruises. Rubbing at his side and favoring one of his legs. Not everyday, but often enough for Hongjoong to constantly be on the lookout. 

What if one day it went too far? What if, one day, that man did something irreversible? 

“And it’s different for the others. I- It’s different, and I can’t explain it, but the thought…” 

The thought of potentially losing Seonghwa. 

Of Seonghwa losing something irreplaceable at the hands of his father. 

Of Seonghwa losing that thing that kept him smiling. 

Of Seonghwa losing the part of him that always made Hongjoong’s heart pound when it came out, bright and glowing like liquid sunshine.

Hongjoong’s hand curled into a tight fist. 

“The thought of you staying here… where he can hurt you… is something I’ve always been against but after you kissed me, and everything came out, I…” Hongjoong tried to keep the panic at bay. “I can’t stand the fucking thought of you ever having to see that bastard again.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes were heavy, something shattered while Hongjoong had looked away. “After winter,” Seonghwa whispered, placing a hand over Hongjoong’s fist. “I promised you, Hongjoong. And that thought is the only thing that has been getting me through fucking waiting for him to leave. The fact that in a few months, I’ll…” 

He trailed off, voice dying and expression flickering, like someone trying to think of two things at once. 

“I’ll be free to go with you,” he whispered, too quiet, eyes distant, like he was whispering a secret that couldn’t be spoken too loudly for fear of it being revealed. “I’ll be free to be with you.” 

Hongjoong swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

Be with you. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung huddled together in their little corners, wrapped around each other and speaking a language that the others could understand but could never speak themselves. 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong hiding in Hongjoong’s room, their bare amounts of money spread before them, and Seonghwa hugging him tightly, assuring him it would work out, both of them passing secrets that the others were never allowed to hear. 

It had worked out this far, hadn’t it? No one ever claimed it was easy or pleasant, but they were all still here, weren’t they? They were still with each other. 

“We’ll leave,” Hongjoong promised, unclenching his fist to take Seonghwa’s fully, the older looking at their joined hands with clear eyes. “When you decide to come with us… we’ll find somewhere else. Somewhere better.” 

“I don’t care,” Seonghwa confessed, a hushed whisper, hand tightening on Hongjoong’s again. “As long as I’m out of here, I don’t care, Hongjoong. As long as I’m with you,  _ I don’t care. _ ” 

Hongjoong’s fingers ached with how hard they held on. 

It wasn’t like Hongjoong was under any sort of delusion that Seonghwa  _ wanted  _ to stay at this hell. But throughout the years, he had been so adamant that it wasn’t that bad, that Hongjoong maybe forgot that Seonghwa was the one suffering through this. 

That Seonghwa hated this place more than Hongjoong ever could. 

They stared at each other, promises hanging at the front of their tongues, but never passing because they were too dangerous. Too easily turned into lies. 

_ It’ll be okay.  _

_ You’ll be happy.  _

_ One day, it’ll be better.  _

Neither of them spoke. But Hongjoong set aside hit bowl of soup on the nightstand. 

Seonghwa shifted to face Hongjoong more fully, hand tight on his. 

Hongjoong tried to sit up more, but Seonghwa stopped him with a gentle hand on his chest, shifting forward onto his knees until he could hover above Hongjoong who stared up at him, heart beating rapidly beneath his chest. 

Hongjoong couldn’t tell what Seonghwa was thinking, but his expression made his chest ache. 

There was a pause. Not a hesitation, but a moment of appreciation as Seonghwa’s eyes trailed Hongjoong’s face slowly, like trying to memorize something. 

Hongjoong was unmoving beneath him, until Seonghwa closed the distance between them. 

Their second kiss wasn’t surrounded by snow and frigid winds blasting them from all sides, both of them clinging for some shred of warmth from the other. 

It was sweltering. Hongjoong pressed between warm blankets and the pulse of heat from Seonghwa pressed against his chest, neck, and cheek. 

And it was… weird. 

Because it was  _ Seonghwa _ , who Hongjoong knew inside and out, things both of them had told the other things that no one else knew. They had trusted each other with the most private and darkest parts of themselves- 

Hongjoong’s fears and worries, for everything from their money to their health. 

Seonghwa’s worst fights with his father, all the awful, hateful words thrown back and forth like bullets trying to find their most painful target. 

Their darkest fears for the future. Their most ridiculous hopes. 

Both of them had long been so tangled in each other’s minds, they were no longer two completely separate entities. Hongjoong would have told you that he knew Seonghwa in every way possible. 

But physically… 

Hongjoong had never been afraid to hold or be held by Seonghwa. Grabbing hands and brushing hair away, laying together in the sun or huddling close during colder evenings. 

Hongjoong had never even imagined what it would be like to have Seonghwa’s hands frame his face, lips warm and smooth against his, gentle and coaxing and tinged the slightest bit of desperate. 

After knowing each other so intimately in so many other ways, it was something foreign, the way Hongjoong threaded his fingers in the hair at the back of his head, holding on as he tilted his head, giving Seonghwa better access that the other took advantage of to the fullest. 

His tongue was warm where it curled around Hongjoong’s, sending pulses of warmth from his chest to his fingertips that curled into whatever part of Seonghwa was closest, tugging him forward until he fell in line with Hongjoong’s body. 

Seonghwa’s hand threaded through Hongjoong’s hair, using it to tilt his head slightly, but so fucking gentle that Hongjoong barely felt it. 

When Seonghwa pulled away, foreheads staying pressed together, eyes remaining closed and bodies staying pressed together, neither of them moved. Just breathed. 

Just existed for a moment. Because right now, it was just Hongjoong and Seonghwa. 

But once Hongjoong opened his eyes, he would see Seonghwa’s room and know where they were and what had happened here, and what would continue to happen for months until Seonghwa would let himself leave. 

But for now. 

For now, they existed. 

For now, they could be h- 

Two loud, pounding knocks slammed against Seonghwa’s bedroom door, both of them jumping violently, Seonghwa’s hand automatically flying up to clamp over Hongjoong’s mouth as fear-ridden eyes turned towards the door. Hongjoong almost threw up right then and there. 

“Seonghwa!” the rough voice of Seonghwa’s father rang through the door. 

Seonghwa turned back, true, deep fear the likes of which Hongjoong had never seen flooding his eyes in a panic. 

Seonghwa didn’t know what to do. 

Hongjoong grabbed the hand over his mouth, shoving it away and pushing Seonghwa towards the door, even as he rolled to the other side of the bed, ignoring his protesting limbs that were numbed by adrenaline. 

Seonghwa stared in dull panic, and Hongjoong waved a hand frantically. “Go,” he hissed, letting himself slip off the edge, not strong enough to do much else but slow his fall to not make a huge thump against the floor, hidden between the larger space between the bed and the wall. 

Through the space under the bed, he could see through to the door, watching Seonghwa’s feet rush over to the door that had already started to be shoved open. 

“Don’t just come into my room,” Seonghwa snapped, anger replacing the fear. Whether it was genuine, or just a way to try and hide the tremor of his words, Hongjoong didn’t know. 

“Then answer me when I call you,” his father said, voice deep and already angry. 

Hongjoong had only ever seen the man from a distance, through the window of his corvette that passed by as he waited for Seonghwa. But hearing him now, speaking to Seonghwa, knowing that only twenty feet from him was the man who had put so many bruises on Seonghwa- 

It made his blood boil. 

“You weren’t supposed to be home.” Seonghwa’s voice was a different kind of bitter, speaking to his father, rather than about him. “You only left last night.” 

“Drop the attitude,” he gruffed, voice short. “The flight was canceled, and I thought I might return home to you doing something useful, but it looks as if you just woke up. At six o’clock in the evening.” 

“Maybe I was doing important things during the rest of the day,” Seonghwa returned. 

There was a silence that even Hongjoong could feel the weight of, pressing against his lungs, a threat hanging without a single word. 

“Your mother called.” 

“Joy.” 

“She said she’s staying in America another month-” 

“What a surprise.” 

There was a shift of clothing, and Hongjoong saw Seonghwa’s feet shift backwards suddenly, as if he had flinched. 

“I  _ said  _ drop the attitude,” his father growled. “She’s staying in America another month. She sent you something. It should be in the mail soon.” 

“Fine…” Seonghwa’s voice lost some of its fight, becoming smaller. 

Hongjoong’s fist curled into a painful press of his nails into his palm. 

“Did you look into colleges today?”

“No.” 

His father scoffed. “Of course, you didn’t. Hard enough to find someone who’ll accept someone who was expelled from  _ high school _ .” 

Seonghwa was silent. 

His father gave another disgusted scoff. “I’m going to host a conference call. Do not make noise down here.” 

Seonghwa said nothing. Footsteps retreated, and Seonghwa closed the door to his room firmly. Hongjoong heard the lock click. Seconds passed, Seonghwa listening, until his feet rushed back towards Hongjoong, circling to the other side of the bed. 

His face was pale with either panic or relief, dropping onto the ground quickly. 

“Christ,” he whispered, shaking hands grabbing onto Hongjoong’s arms and helping him stand, careful of every wince, even as he took most of Hongjoong’s weight that his exhausted muscles wouldn’t support. “He wasn’t supposed to be home,” he whispered as he helped Hongjoong sit on the bed. “He was supposed to be gone two more days-” 

Hongjoong caught Seonghwa’s hand, holding it tightly. “Calm down,” he said firmly, even as his own hand shook from adrenaline fading. “He didn’t see anything. You just need to contact the others and have one of them come help me get back to the warehouse.”

Seonghwa frowned. “You can’t go back to the warehouse,” he hissed. “You can barely sit up on your own, going back out into that is going to-” 

“Well, I can’t exactly stay in the house with him here, can I?” Hongjoong returned, just as firm. “If he ever found me here-” 

“He’d kill  _ you  _ before he even thought about me,” Seonghwa assured him. “But you can’t just go back out there, your fever only just broke-” 

“ _ I can’t stay here _ ,” Hongjoong repeated, voice hard. “Seonghwa, you can’t hide me while he’s here. It’s hard enough to keep it separate when we’re out there.” He gestured carelessly to the window. He met Seonghwa’s eyes that were wide and desperate. 

“You’re going to get sick again,” he whispered. “Hongjoong-” 

“I can’t stay here,” Hongjoong said quietly, voice dropping to something more curved around the edges. It didn’t matter how dangerous it was to go back out there. The facts remained the same. “Seonghwa, you know-” 

“ _ Yes, I know that _ ,” he hissed, something like anger flashing around the corner of his eyes that faded as soon as it was there. “How am I even supposed to contact them? I don’t know if they planned to come back around.” 

“Can you sneak out?” Hongjoong whispered. “I can hide in here.” Seonghwa looked angry. Scared. Fragile. But he knew as well as Hongjoong they were limited in their options. 

“I wouldn’t be able to until my father goes to sleep.” Hongjoong could see the annoyance in Seonghwa’s eyes. He didn’t like it at all. 

Hongjoong sighed, feeling so  _ angry _ . 

Not a single person deserved anything happening to them. Not him, not Seonghwa, not the others- but somehow-

_ Somehow _ , they were the ones always tearing part of them off to fit into where they were needed. 

They sat in silence, tensing at every creak of the house, until Seonghwa perked up at the sound of a door closing. “He’s gone to his room,” he whispered. “He’ll be asleep within the hour.” 

Still, they remained in silence, their fingers intertwined loosely, and Hongjoong… 

He felt sick. Unrelated to his illness, he just felt… dirty. From watching first hand how Seonghwa’s father treated him, for seeing the kind of person Seonghwa’s father had turned him into. 

Seonghwa stood, helping Hongjoong hide between the bed and the wall, and promising to be back as soon as possible. 

He didn’t look Hongjoong in the eyes. Their hands didn’t linger when he let go of him. 

Hongjoong sat alone, listening to the silence of the house. 

He just wanted everyone to stop being… so sad. 

He just wanted to stop being the reason Seonghwa had to worry. 

So Hongjoong didn’t fight when Seonghwa returned, helping him stand and shuffle his way to the window, the wind even more crippling after being so warm. He didn’t complain when he and Yunho helped him through, or when Yunho directed him to climb onto his back. 

He didn’t say a word when Seonghwa rolled up the very blanket that Hongjoong had been wrapped in, asking Yunho if he could carry it as well. 

“Seonghwa, you don’t have anymore blankets,” Yunho said gently, even as he took it. 

“I have heating,” Seonghwa assured him. “Just make sure he stays warm. And just… bring him back if it gets worse. Please.” 

Hongjoong knew that couldn’t happen. Not with his father bad in town. 

Yunho nodded, though, and Seonghwa closed the window, and they went back to the warehouse. Hongjoong shivered as the snow fell against his neck, and was grateful that Yunho brought him straight to his room instead of subjecting him to the stares of the others. 

Despite not doing anything, the cold and the journey made his limbs stiff and his eyes heavy. Yunho helped him get situated in the thick, real blanket that Seonghwa had just given them. 

Hongjoong swallowed the guilt and forced it into exhaustion that only dragged him down further. 

~~~~~~~~

Yeosang sat in their little communal room, beside his and Wooyoung’s, staring at nothing. 

He had gotten good at being occupied with his own head, rather than needing an external stimulus like Wooyoung. 

Hongjoong slept through the night, and as the others got up in the morning, Yeosang volunteered to watch Hongjoong, to make sure nothing went wrong while they went out. 

Wooyoung frowned. “You want me to stay?” he offered. “Mingi and San are good to walk around by themselves.” 

Yeosang shook his head. “Go with them. It’s just a few hours. Mingi’s probably gonna need all the support he can get, if he’s searching for a better job.” 

Wooyoung still looked concerned, like he always did, but conceded without a fight, as he always did. He was just protective. Attached. Whatever you want to call it. 

And Yeosang was glad for that. It felt nice. Comforting. 

Hongjoong didn’t do much but shift in his sleep, and Yeosang stayed curled up near him, making sure his body temperature didn’t drop too far (and, he’ll be honest, the blanket was really warm). Yeosang occupied himself with watched the snow flurries float by. 

It wasn’t until near midday that Hongjoong finally opened his eyes, slowly, staring at the ceiling as Yeosang laid next to him. 

Yeosang stared as he sighed, shoulders falling as he closed his eyes again. 

“You had us worried,” He said plainly. 

Hongjoong didn’t move. “I know,” he murmured, voice rough with sickness, as if he had been coughing. “I keep doing that, apparently.” 

Yeosang hummed. “It’s not your fault, you know,” he muttered, tracing patterns into the blanket. “We can’t help worrying. The same as you can’t help making us worry.” 

Hongjoong huffed. “That’s not what you made it sound like when I first talked about going on the boat.” 

“That was different,” Yeosang said firmly. “That, you could have helped. You could have had someone else go. And exactly what we were afraid of wound up happening.” 

Yeosang wasn’t upset. But… he didn’t plan on losing any of these people he had found. And he was bitter towards anything that could potentially make that happen. 

“You’re lucky Seonghwa was there.” 

Hongjoong was always lucky Seonghwa was there. The only reason Hongjoong had ever been able to make it this far was because Seonghwa was always there. Even where Hongjoong tried to shove him out. 

“I know.” 

His tongue felt numb. Hongjoong just kept refusing, even knowing he needed Seonghwa’s help. He just kept coming back to the same issues and fights, year after year. 

“How….” His voice caught. “How did you and Wooyoung…” 

Yeosang frowned, lifting himself up onto an elbow. That wasn’t a question he expected to start out of Hongjoong’s tired mouth. 

Hongjoong’s expression was strained as he opened his eyes. “How did you know Wooyoung was someone you wanted to be with?” 

Yeosang’s brow pulled down further, eyes scanning the tight expression that pinched Hongjoong’s mouth and eyes. “Something happened between Seonghwa and you,” he said. 

Hongjoong sighed, as if Yeosang was being troublesome. “Put away the precognition, alright?”

“What happened?” Yeosang asked, sitting up. “Did he-” 

“We kissed.” 

And it felt like something mind blowing, but followed by a sigh of relief and a breath of “ _ Finally _ .” 

But Yeosang knew that was not the response Hongjoong needed right now. “Okay,” he said quietly. 

Hongjoong didn’t look at him. “Anything else you’d like to add?” There was a bitter amusement in his voice that made Yeosang worried. 

“That’s not what you needed to tell me. I’m waiting for the part that I’m supposed to help with.” 

Because kissing Seonghwa was not going to be the thing that broke Hongjoong. The consequences of that, maybe, but not a simple acknowledgement of something everyone knew was coming. 

He could hear Hongjoong swallow. “You’re not even a little bit surprised?”

“What happened after that?” Yeosang asked quietly, not answering. “What scared you?” 

Because taking that leap… despite how assured you were, despite how sure you were it would be reciprocated… it was terrifying, especially in those moments afterwards where you both remained in a stasis you had created. 

(Yeosang stared at a bruised Wooyoung who had only recently stopped putting bruises on Yeosang, and somehow felt in his chest that this was the boy Yeosang was going to risk everything with.) 

“I”m not-” Hongjoong just cut himself off, the lie not slipping out. “I…” 

Yeosang wondered if Seonghwa was going through something similar. 

“How did you and Wooyoung… do it?” 

And Yeosang would have been more shocked if not for the quietness of Hongjoong’s voice. The weakness there. The fear. 

Yeosang straightened. “Do what?” he asked carefully. He and Wooyoung had done a lot of things. 

“Like… all of it,” he sighed, bringing his hands up and pressing his palms to his eyes. “How did you stand each other? How did you not kill each other? How did you fucking… fucking  _ last  _ this long?”

And it was something Yeosang had stopped thinking about, but something that could never leave either of their minds for as long as they lived. It wasn’t something they talked about, but both of them danced with it tattooed onto the forefront of their minds. 

“You know what happened to us.” Quiet. Reserved. 

“I know,” Hongjoong whispered. “But how… even after everything, how do you not drive each other insane?” 

“We do.” 

Hongjoong dropped his hands from his eyes, frowning. “You love Wooyoung.” 

Yeosang frowned. “Of course, I do.” 

Hongjoong pushed himself up, even if Yeosang needed to help him, and even if Hongjoong had to keep holding on to keep himself upright. “You just said-” 

“It’s impossible to spend any amount of time around someone and not be driven crazy,” Yeosang said, coming to a realization that he hadn’t necessarily thought he would: Hongjoong didn’t know how to love someone. 

“But you and Wooyoung never… you never fight.” 

“Not in so many words,” Yeosang agreed. “We… It became a sort of agreement between us that we had hurt each other enough. We don’t… let ourselves fight like that. But Wooyoung is almost constantly on my nerves for how hyper he is. He can barely sit still. And Wooyoung still wishes I would be more expressive, even if he doesn’t need me to be. We’re both stubborn and we’re both always convinced we’re right. That’s a dangerous combination sometimes.”

Yeosang saw Hongjoong wince, as if he realized he was in a similar situation. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung were often annoyed with each other. But it was a situation of holding hands tightly, even as they glared at opposite walls, not speaking to each other. 

“Are you and Seonghwa fighting?” he asked plainly. 

Hongjoong didn’t look up, lips rolling as if bracing himself for something. “I don’t… I don’t know.” 

Yeosang hummed. The worst kind of fight. 

“I just… We’re  _ always  _ fighting,” he breathed, staring at his thin fingers that were spread in front of him. “We never  _ stop  _ fighting. Even if we know we shouldn’t, even if we  _ know  _ one of us is right, we can never just…” His brow pinched. “We just can’t ever  _ stop _ .” 

Yeosang was silent. Hongjoong ran a shaking hand through his hair. 

“And I think it’s… it’s starting to wear on us or something, Yeosang, because ever since he kissed me, it’s just… too fucking much, all the  _ fighting _ . I can’t accept his help, and  _ he  _ can’t just say how hard everything is without it turning into a shouting match, and his father’s back in town-” 

Hongjoong sighed, hard and annoyed, as he always did for Seonghwa’s father. 

“You and Wooyoung are happy,” Hongjoong sighed. “How did you get to being  _ happy _ ?”

Yeosang was quiet for another moment, choosing his words very carefully. 

“Are you not happy?” 

Hongjoong looked like Yeosang had just struck him in the gut, and Yeosang winced a little. It was bad, then. 

“We…” He pressed his lips together. “Wooyoung was the only person I could trust. And it was just the two of us, so we had no choice but to become closer. And after being stuck in hell for so long, there was nothing else we could feel when we were finally free.” 

Yeosang remembered the night they left, finally out of the orphanage and putting as much distance between them as they could. They made it out of the city, heading into highway and country roads as the sun finally started to rise, casting everything in hues of gold and pink. 

Yeosang had taken a breath of air, bathed in gold and free, staring at the horizon, and felt something thick settle in his throat because they were…

They… 

He looked over and Wooyoung looked… for the first time, he didn’t look angry. He didn’t look dark. 

His eyes reflected golds and pinks that almost hid the bruises on his face, making him look younger, ruffled hair seeming lighter and brighter. 

And Yeosang could only stare because he supposed… this is what Wooyoung looked like when he was free. When you finally tugged off the weights and chains, and just let him run. 

That first sunrise was something seared into their eyes. 

They hadn’t said a word, but neither of them moved until the sun had risen, the faint colors fading into blue before they tore their eyes away and moved on. 

“There’s no secret,” He murmured. “I just… I look at him and I’m… happy. I trusted him, and we took a risk together, and after time, we knew we were all we needed, so we were happy.” 

Hongjoong sighed, dropping his head. “That doesn’t help me.” 

“Why?” Yeosang questioned. 

“Seonghwa isn’t all I need, we don’t… we’ve got you guys, we’re part of something bigger-” 

“Hyung, that wasn’t the point,” Yeosang said flatly. “The point is that…” He sighed gently. “Does Seonghwa not make you happy?”

Hongjoong looked up quickly. “He does,” he fought. “I- A little too much, sometimes,” he confessed. “But I… I’m not making  _ him  _ happy. We’re fighting and pushing against each other, even though we know we’re hurting the other.” 

Yeosang was silent, frowning until Hongjoong looked up at the prolonged quiet. 

“Hyung, if you can’t see how much Seonghwa’s is fucking deep for you, you’ve missed more than a few weeks. I can’t believe this is even a question.” 

“I- It’s not like he hates me,” he said quickly, “but I’ve been making him fucking miserable, and we’re just fighting so much, even when we’re not yelling-” 

“You fight because you’re worried about each other,” Yeosang said, feeling like he was explaining maths to a child. “And neither of you can do anything about it, so you lash out. That’s not… it’s not like your fights ever hurt the other, aside from reminding each other what you’re incapable of fixing. You’re not doing it to be cruel.” 

Hongjoong looked lost. Like he couldn’t quite trust what Yeosang was saying. Like he was speaking a language he didn’t know the words of, but recognized.

“Hyung, you and Seonghwa have already lasted,” Yeosang explained, frowning, wondering how after so long they could question this. “It’s been  _ years _ , hyung, and both of you are still around each other. Hell, you took more steps  _ towards  _ each other, instead of farther away.” 

Hongjoong groaned, scrubbing at his face. “But we’re- it’s not-” 

“It’s not going to be perfect,” Yeosang said firmly. “And it won’t be any better while Seonghwa is stuck at home. It can’t be because the two of you… The two of you…” 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong were weird. Stranger than even he and Wooyoung because their greatest enemies were not each other: it was themselves. They didn’t need to get over some great betrayal or months of regret because they didn’t  _ have  _ that. 

All they had were hearts that cared too much but prides that could not be bruised. 

Hongjoong wanted Seonghwa safe. Seonghwa wanted Hongjoong safe. Neither of those could be reached without the other giving way in some aspect, and neither of them would. 

Seonghwa would not leave. Hongjoong would not let up on himself. 

“The two of you already have everything you need, hyung,” Yeosang said, voice decided. “Your issue isn’t fighting too much, it’s caring too much. And that’s not bad, but when you do that…” 

Yeosang used to care too much. When the taunts slowly turned to blows, he had hidden himself away and sobbed until he was sick and cursing the fucking world and man who put him in that hellhole. 

“Be careful not to get hurt too much,” He said, voice dropping. He wasn’t looking at Hongjoong anymore. “You’re in a weird position, hyung. Both of you. But you’re… you’re already there, hyung, you just need a couple more steps. Both of you just need to give way… just a little bit.” 

Silence seemed to echo around them, and Yeosang still didn’t look at Hongjoong, not even when he heard him shifting around. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa fought for all the right reasons, in all the wrong ways. And the hardest part was that they were both right: Seonghwa shouldn’t need to stay and Hongjoong should learn to accept help. 

They were two magnets, but they were both plus signs trying to force themselves together, and if one of them would just turn around for  _ one fucking moment _ , they would slam together and never be able to be parted, if they could just  _ turn-  _

“Seonghwa said he would leave after winter.” 

Yeosang did look up at that, eyes widening slightly. “He is?”

Hongjoong nodded. “But that’s still too long, he… he shouldn’t have to stay,” he muttered. “His father’s getting worse, I can tell. I… I’m just scared about what’ll happen between now and after winter ends.” 

A lot could happen. And Yeosang had never been one to be overly optimistic, but…

“Seonghwa doesn’t want to keep being hurt, hyung,” Yeosang said quietly. “If things were truly getting to a point where he was concerned for his safety… he’d leave early. He wouldn’t risk something like that.” 

Even Seonghwa wasn’t that stupid. 

Hongjoong rolled his lips, expression scared. “Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely, though he didn’t sound like he believed it. 

“Just…” Yeosang paused, Hongjoong glanced up at him. “Just enjoy it for now, okay, hyung? Once Seonghwa leaves at the end of winter… it’ll be better, hyung. Don’t think too much because that’s when you start getting into fights.” 

Hongjoong hesitated, but nodded, part of the clouds clearing from his eyes. 

“Just take this revelation of feelings as an opportunity to fuck like rabbits, if you want.” 

Hongjoong’s face was practically scandalized as his head jerked up so fast, Yeosang worried for his neck. “ _ Yeosang _ .” 

He wrinkled his nose, unbothered. “ _ What _ ?” he demanded. “As if you don’t know that Wooyoung and I-” 

“ _ Do not  _ finish that sentence,” he threatened, glaring. “Jesus, Yeosang, I’ve kissed him twice and you’re talking about-” 

Yeosang wanted to laugh. “I never would have thought you were the ‘take them out to dinner and flowers’ type, hyung.” 

“I’m not-” Hongjoong glared, shoving him weakly and laying back down. “We’re not talking about this anymore,” He said firmly, rolling to face away from Yeosang, who chuckled lightly. 

“Seriously, hyung,” Yeosang said, voice still amused as he poked Hongjoong’s back. “Nothing can really change until Seonghwa leaves. So just… work around that, okay?” 

There was a silence, and Yeosang waited until he saw Hongjoong nod slowly before withdrawing his hand. 

Really… Hongjoong and Seonghwa needed each other in different ways than they potentially needed the others. And Yeosang of all people understood that. They were both potential storms in their own ways, and when they clashed, they would either worsen each other or calm each other, and it was a complete toss up for which it would be. 

Yeosang now had a look out, though: the end of winter. Things would change and get better after this winter. 

They just had to make it through the winter. 

~~~~~~

When Hongjoong woke up, freezing but feeling less ill than before, Seonghwa was there. 

At first, Hongjoong thought it was some post-fever hallucination, but he could feel his hand wrapped around Hongjoong’s, rubbing it gently, like he was trying to keep it warm. 

Seonghwa had a thermos sitting beside his leg and Hongjoong’s hand wrapped in his.

“How are you feeling?” Seonghwa asked quietly, seeing his eyes open, eyes shining and gentle as they glanced Hongjoong over. “Does anything still hurt? I meant to grab some painkillers, but I didn’t have time.” 

Hongjoong felt like everything fucking hurt, but it was a more manageable level. It had fucking better be, after he had done nothing but sleep for what was probably close to three days. He sat up with some difficulty that made his head hurt, but he managed it. 

“Fine,” he said quietly, rubbing at his tired eyes. He tried not to think, focusing just on Seonghwa beside him and the scent of hot broth. 

Seonghwa picked up the little thermos, uncapping it and pouring a full cup. “I don’t know how your throat is, but this should at least help,” He said as he passed it to Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong held a hand out, trying to refuse on instinct because he knew the others were around here somewhere, just as cold- 

_ Both of you just need to give way… just a little bit.  _

Hongjoong had learned a long time ago that it was best to trust what Yeosang said. No matter how you didn’t like to hear it. He was usually right. 

He swallowed his refusal, almost choking on it as he stared at the cup for a moment before taking it slowly. He sipped the soup that was still hot enough to burn his mouth a little, but it was welcome for the chill. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Seonghwa asked, genuine concern shining. “You’re… quieter.” 

Read: you’ve stopped fighting so much. 

One of them had to give. And Seonghwa had already given his answer: he would give after winter was over. Which meant it was Hongjoong’s responsibility. 

Hongjoong lowered the cup, staring at the broth heavily. “I… I’m trying,” He confessed under his breath. 

There was a moment where Seonghwa’s expression pinched in confusion before clearing in understanding. He stared at Hongjoong like he couldn’t quite believe it, and then his expression softened into something quieter that Hongjoong couldn’t look at because it made his chest hurt. 

_ Just… try _ . 

Hongjoong sipped his broth until the cup was gone, both of them sitting in silence until he was finished. Seonghwa reached forward to take the cup back, his jacket sleeve riding up. 

Hongjoong could very clearly see the lines of bruises circling his wrist. 

Hongjoong’s hand flew out, taking his hand that had held his and turning it over, examining the red and darkening lines around it. Seonghwa jumped at the contact, but his shoulders fell almost in acceptance as Hongjoong’s throat closed up. 

Seonghwa didn’t pull his hand away, allowing Hongjoong to stare darkly at the bruise, his smile wry and faint. “All the fruit was gone,” he said quietly. “And I wouldn’t tell him what I needed the soup for.” The thermos stood there like a guilty man under a judge’s gaze. 

Hongjoong stared silently, traced a gentle finger over the bruise, seeing if Seonghwa would flinch, his heart dropping low to his stomach. 

“It’s just a skin bruise, it doesn’t even hurt.” 

“Why were you leaving with him still there?” Hongjoong asked, voice hoarse, the soup in his stomach curdling. 

“He was doing nothing but yelling this morning,” Seonghwa explained, voice so casual as if he were speaking of the weather. “I had to get out or I was gonna start saying something that would  _ really _ make him mad.” He huffed in bitter amusement. 

Just until winter is over. 

_ After winter, I’ll be with you _ . 

Hongjoong swallowed thickly, throat aching. Just until winter is over. 

It was too long. Too long to sit by and watch as things got worse. Hongjoong would have to sit for months, powerless to help someone that he had acknowledged was… 

Seonghwa was… 

Hongjoong didn’t know how to comfort him. How to help him. How to fix it. He didn’t know how to stop him from feeling alone, to stop him from thinking that this was all there was- 

Hongjoong tugged Seonghwa forward by the hand as he leaned in. 

Whether Seonghwa knew what he was doing or if it was just instinct, Seonghwa’s hand caught the back of Hongjoong’s neck, sitting there gently as Hongjoong brought their lips together quickly, perhaps a bit too hard, but he… 

He needed to do something. Needed to be able to say that he did  _ something  _ for Seonghwa. 

The contact did something funny to Hongjoong’s chest, like warm liquid falling down his throat, into his stomach and warming him from the inside out. 

Hongjoong shifted closer, one hand braced on Seonghwa’s knee as the other twisting his fingers in the back of Hongjoong’s hair. 

It was faster than the others, a little more desperate, a little less coordinated, and Hongjoong just prayed, just fucking  _ hoped  _ that it was enough. That all this was enough- 

Seonghwa pulled away, chest rising and falling rapidly. Hongjoong felt like everything was spinning.

“Why did you do that?” he breathed, puffs landing across Hongjoong’s cheek. 

Hongjoong swallowed, wishing he could broadcast what he felt without having to say anything. “I can’t help you any other way,” he whispered, hand resting against Seonghwa’s chest. “I just want to… I want to help you.” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t know how else to do it at this point.” 

Hongjoong was surprised when Seonghwa pulled away, his heart sinking for a moment as Seonghwa looked at him, his expression almost hurt. 

“Hongjoong,” he said quietly, voice too small. Hongjoong’s fingers curled into a loose fist, bracing himself. “Why do you think you never do anything?” he asked, as if it were an age old question that only Hongjoong could answer. 

“I don’t have anything to give you,” Hongjoong murmured because it was true, eyes tracing Seonghwa’s cheeks and eyes. “I’ve never been able to give you anything, but you keep giving-” 

“I don’t need the things I give you,” Seonghwa said, voice harder. “That’s why I give them. Hongjoong, I’ve grown up with everything I could possibly want.” 

His hand was warm where it cupped Hongjoong’s cheek, so gentle it was like a butterfly landing against his cheek. 

“I have access to every piece of material that I could want,” he said, voice dropping. “I don’t want  _ things _ , Hongjoong. I’ve had them, and I don’t need them. I don’t  _ want  _ them.” 

His thumb brushed over the swell of Hongjoong’s cheek, and his eyes closed against the burning threatening them, lungs freezing over. 

“I didn’t need someone who could give me food back or money in return,” He whispered, leaning closer. “I needed someone who would stop and ask a stranger if they was okay.” Seonghwa’s voice wavered dangerously, and when Hongjoong opened his eyes, his eyes were misty, staring at Hongjoong as if begging him to understand. “I needed someone who would sit and listen. I needed someone who would look at me. I needed someone who would take me along with them instead of leaving me behind at every chance.” 

Hongjoong’s mouth was dry. 

“Everything I ever needed, you were able to give me, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered, hand shaking a little as their foreheads touched gently. “And I can’t believe that after so long, you still can’t understand that.” Their lips barely brushed. “I don’t need you to do a single thing but what you’ve always done.” He scanned Hongjoong’s face carefully. “And if you kiss me… I want it to be because it’s something you want. Not because it’s something you think I need.” 

Hongjoong… was not used to doing things he wanted. 

He was used to thinking in ‘needs’ and dismissing ‘wants’. 

Wants had no place among people who had so little. He only had enough to provide what they needed, they couldn’t afford to start trying to meet wants. Wanting made you selfish. Wanting only made you want more. 

If Hongjoong did things he wanted, he would only want more. 

Hongjoong had been in shit situation after shit situation. He was tired of seeing people go through that, and he tried- he tried so fucking hard to be for Seonghwa what he wished someone had been for him. But what could he give Seonghwa- who had everything? 

He had a house, food, warmth, clothes- 

Not family. Not friends. 

Not a single person who would sit and just exist with him. Hongjoong was proud to be that person. To be the first who could give that to Seonghwa. But it just didn’t seem like enough. It was like a taste of what he thought Seonghwa deserved. 

But apparently… Seonghwa had long since thought it was enough. More than enough. 

Hongjoong had filled in that final thing Seonghwa needed. 

Now, there were only things he wanted. 

Things Hongjoong wanted. 

Hongjoong wanted… 

Seonghwa’s eyes shone, and Hongjoong… Hongjoong wanted… 

“I want you to be happy,” Hongjoong breathed, chest clenching painfully. 

Seonghwa wet his lips. “And what do you want for yourself?” he asked, nodding quietly. His thumb swiped Hongjoong’s cheek gently. 

For himself? But that was- 

“Be selfish, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered as he met Hongjoong’s eyes, clear and dark. “If you would let yourself be selfish…. what would you want?” 

What would be want? A home for the others, money so they didn’t have to worry, safety and warmth so they would stop being sick- 

For himself. 

He had only ever wanted one thing, mingled among all the other dreams that were impossible. 

“I want to be happy.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes smiled, curling up as something like a broken laugh echoed in his chest. “Of course,” He whispered, voice wavering, eyes bright. “But what would make you happy?” 

Safety. Home. Everyone. Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong was happy. When he was with the others, when they were laughing, when he was with Seonghwa, when he smiled genuinely and Hongjoong knew he was the one who caused that rarity, when Seonghwa could fall carelessly next to him and ask what he was doing as if they were anyone else in the world but themselves. 

_ What would make him happy? _

Hongjoong closed the miniscule distance between them. 

His eyes slipping closed, pressing but slow and Seonghwa wound a hand around his waist as best he could, and he was…. 

Seonghwa… 

He smiled against Hongjoong’s mouth, small and private, but it somehow buried in his chest like a knife as he drew Hongjoong closer, and it was different from the others. The other kisses. It tasted different, it said something different- 

It was Seonghwa extending a branch for Hongjoong to grab. 

And Hongjoong grabbed it…. But this time, he grabbed it because he  _ wanted  _ it. Not because he thought it felt right or because it was instinctual to do so. Not because he wanted to comfort Seonghwa. Not because he needed to give something away. 

He grabbed it and he held on because Seonghwa… Because Hongjoong… 

He wanted to be happy. He just wanted everyone to be able to be  _ happy _ , and if Seonghwa wanted to know what made Hongjoong happy, the answer was simpler than Hongjoong had originally thought. 

Seonghwa. 

His heart swelled until it pressed against his lungs as he shifted, kneeling between Seonghwa’s legs that were splayed out in front of him, Seonghwa’s head tilted back to meet him, hands on Hongjoong’s hips, holding him firmly. 

Hongjoong tangled his hands in Seonghwa’s hair because he  _ wanted  _ to. 

He opened his mouth, allowing Seonghwa the entrance he asked for because he  _ wanted  _ to. He let Seonghwa guide him backwards, let him catch the small of his back, let him lay him down among the little nest of the blankets, let him kiss Hongjoong deeper, let him hover above him as Hongjoong pulled him closer- 

All because he wanted to.  _ Hongjoong  _ wanted to. 

Seonghwa wanted to. 

For once in his life, Hongjoong placed wants above needs. 

And Seonghwa encased him in his arms, like placing walls between them and the world, blocking out the cold and responsibilities so that all Hongjoong could see was the thing he wanted. 

Seonghwa and Hongjoong had been a different support to each other. After knowing each other so intimately in every other way, it felt… strange. 

But shivers unrelated to the cold ran down Hongjoong’s spine as Seonghwa stroked a hand down his side, maybe to warm him up, maybe just because he wanted to. 

Hongjoong wanted… to be happy. 

And the fire kindling in his chest was a lot like what it felt like the last time he felt it. 

They parted, breathing each other’s air as Hongjoong opened his eyes and Seonghwa… 

Hongjoong had never had much use for sunrises or sunsets. But over the weeks, he had seen a lot of both from that little fishing boat. And some of them were… well, call him sentimental, but sometimes they were the thing that got him through the day, the thought of even after everything comes to an end, there’s another coming. The sky starting dark and then you blink and its suddenly exploded into hues that didn’t exist anywhere else. 

Seonghwa’s eyes were bursting with things that Hongjoong had never seen anywhere else. Emotions and shining and colors that fell onto Hongjoong in the form of little droplets that made his face twitch with each that hit his cold skin. 

Seonghwa’s chest shook as he forced air in and out, and Hongjoong lifted a shaking hand, his mind going blank with panic. 

He brushed his thumb beneath Seonghwa’s eyes that broke the tension there, sending more tears cascading down his cheek, landing on Hongjoong’s chest as Seonghwa ducked his head slightly, shoulders trembling weakly. 

Hongjoong forced his head back up, eyes wide as Seonghwa stared down at him, expression twisting with something that made Hongjoong’s heart tear. 

“Why?” he breathed, everything startlingly still even as he felt like the ground was shaking beneath them. “Why are you-” 

The words died in his throat as Seonghwa dropped his head, resting against Hongjoong’s chest as he felt tears soak through into his skin. 

He was crying. 

Seonghwa’s fingers twisting in Hongjoong’s shirt as he shook. 

“Seong…” His hand came automatically to his back, rubbing small circles there. “Why…” 

“I’m happy,” he breathed, almost lost in Hongjoong’s chest. “I promise, Hongjoong,” he said, voice thick around tears that kept forcing their way out, “I’m happy, I’m so…  _ so fucking happy. _ ” 

His hands shook, and Hongjoong guided his head to lift up again, tears smeared across his cheek, but his eyes… 

They were twisted, but it wasn’t pain. Wasn’t what Hongjoong knew the tears of agony and fear looked like. His eyes were brighter. Hidden by the cloud of tears, but it was there. 

Hongjoong kissed him again, tasting salt against his lip, and Seonghwa leaned into him automatically, fingers strong where they gripped Hongjoong’s sides. Hongjoong’s hand ran along Seonghwa’s spine, the other still resting against the curve of his cheek, wiping away the wetness there as best he could. 

He thought it would be more earth shattering when he next saw Seonghwa cry. 

But it just settled on Hongjoong’s chest like a weight, a reminder. Something he could carry with him. Something he shouldn’t forget. 

They breathed through each other, and Seonghwa dropped more of his weight onto Hongjoong, like he was tired, and Hongjoong just pulled him until their chests and legs lined against each other, neither of them moving away. 

Hongjoong didn’t want them to. 

It was languid, almost lazy, just tasting and existing and no clear goal in mind. Hongjoong’s blood thrummed in the background, slow, powerful pumps that raced through his veins like a whitenoise. 

Seonghwa pulled away, resting his face in the curve of his neck. 

“You…” His voice was thick and rough. “You have always meant so much to me, Hongjoong,” he breathed, lips brushing against the skin of his neck, making Hongjoong shiver. “Ever since the beginning you’ve been… I feel…” 

He swallowed, throat bobbing against Hongjoong. 

“Thank you,” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the line of his throat. 

Hongjoong wanted to ask what he was thanking him for. But he already knew. He had always known, but he never wanted to think it was enough. He had always wanted to give more, be more… even if Seonghwa didn’t need it. 

Hongjoong hugged him. Tight and crushing, and Seonghwa could only squeeze Hongjoong’s side in response, both of them with their faces buried in the other, wrapped around as best they could manage. 

“I’m happy,” Hongjoong whispered, heart expanding like a balloon that threatened to pop. “With you… I’m happy right now, Seonghwa.” 

“Good,” he croaked, sounding like he was almost near tears again. “I want you to be.” 

Hongjoong’s vision blurred a little, and when he blinked, there was something hot tracing down his cheek, but he didn’t move. He just stayed wrapped, smelling mint and fabric softener. 

Here, there wasn’t cold. 

Just Seonghwa. 

He could hear, distantly, the others speaking downstairs, messing around, someone laughing. 

Hongjoong had never had his own little world. He was thrust into a huge one that wanted to crush people like them. He was thrown into a world of skyscrapers and neverending streets and people much larger than himself who stared down on him, their shoes catching dangerously close to him. 

Here felt like everything had shrunk down. To just this little place they had found. Mint and warmth and distant laughter… 

It was a different experience. A different feeling. 

If Seonghwa noticed the warmth dropping onto his shoulder, he said nothing, his hands tracing up and down Hongjoong’s sides. 

It was his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I think within two more chapters, this one will be wrapped up? Next chapter was super fun to write, so I can’t wait to post it !!!   
> I hope you enjoyed and have an amazing day, lovelies!!   
> -SS


	5. You Are My Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a fun one!!   
> A bit of bad news- this is the last chapter I have written and the next one (and last one) will likely take a while to write because of life stuff, but hopefully it won’t be too long a wait!!   
> I’ll try to have that out as soon as possible, I promise!!   
> -SS

Hongjoong went back on the boat. 

The old man was more forgiving than Hongjoong thought he would be, given how he disappeared for three days, but apparently, given Wooyoung and Yeosang showing up in the middle of the night, he figured it was something serious. 

Hongjoong was almost sick with relief when he got back on the boat, even if he was still a little weak while lifting things. 

He still left early, heading out before the sun rose, and getting back late in the evening when the moon was already high. He walked through the snow, leaving dirty footprints behind him as he tried to shake off as much water as he could. 

Seonghwa was always there. 

“Isn’t your father still in town?” Hongjoong asked as Seonghwa gave him a dry jacket. 

Seonghwa’s smile was small, but more genuine than Hongjoong could ever remember it being when his father was mentioned. “Yeah,” he answered simply, as if he couldn’t care less where his father was. 

He kissed him. So much. 

Drawing Hongjoong in despite the wet, wrapping his arms around him and Hongjoong felt like he was sprinting everytime, his heart pounding as their lips met again and again, as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. 

It was…. Wonderful. 

Hongjoong sank into Seonghwa who seemed perfectly content to hold him up, and it felt like relief each time. Like finally letting go of the weights he held onto. It was almost dizzying. Hongjoong simply clung to Seonghwa and just… 

Existed. 

Without worrying about the outside world, without caring for the weather, without remembering where Seonghwa was coming from and where he would be returning. 

Hongjoong simply allowed himself to give in to what he wanted. 

What they both wanted. 

Their fingers intertwined as they walked, Seonghwa lifting them at odd moments to kiss Hongjoong knuckles in something that always made him look away as Seonghwa chuckled at his reaction. 

Seonghwa walked him all the way to the warehouse each night, despite Hongjoong’s protests that grew shorter each night. And when Hongjoong would go to release his hand, telling him to get home safe, Seonghwa would pull him back against his chest for one more kiss that burned brighter than a match flaring. 

Sometimes, they simply stood in the snow, Seonghwa’s hand braced against the small of his back and Hongjoong’s arms looping around his neck, just trying to be as close as they could find a way to be. 

More often, they would walk themselves without parting, until Hongjoong’s back hit the wall of the warehouse, and suddenly Seonghwa was pressing closer, the cold metal something easily ignored as Hongjoong had something to take his weight as Seonghwa kissed him deeper, warmer, harder. 

He would hold Hongjoong, legs tangling dangerously close, kissing at an angle that warmed Hongjoong to his core until he trailed his lips over Hongjoong’s cheek, bending to mouth at the curve of his jaw. 

Those were the times Hongjoong clung to him, head falling back and mouth open to say something that could never quite form as shivers ran along him violently until he had to pull Seonghwa back to his mouth before something happened they couldn’t afford right now. 

Those were the times the softness was tinged with desperation at the thought of going home, of facing another day, of parting, of leaving the other to their own demons they had to fight on their own- 

The times when Hongjoong would keep pulling Seonghwa back, the times when Seonghwa would hold Hongjoong that much tighter, the times when Hongjoong let him go that much further, when Seonghwa pushed that much harder, when they let themselves forget about everything but each other for that much longer- 

The times when they would end with faces buried in shirts and necks, just breathing and existing until the weight of time pressed too heavily on them and Seonghwa reminded Hongjoong he needed to get up early the next morning. 

The times when Hongjoong almost wasn’t strong enough to let go. 

The times when Hongjoong had to keep his eyes closed until he heard Seonghwa’s footsteps leave completely because the sight of him leaving to go back to his house was something Hongjoong couldn’t bear to watch anymore. 

Rinse. Repeat. 

Day after day. 

The others knew. Yeosang would have told them. He could see it in the few times they were awake when he got home, taking in his disheveled appearance, and just smiling gently as they laughed quietly. 

“About time,” was all Wooyoung had to say. 

Seonghwa started showing up with hot soup every night, making Hongjoong drink it while they walked home. 

And Hongjoong hated to admit it, but he felt… at least better than before. Seonghwa actually forcing him to eat had him exhausted and aching, but no longer teetering on that edge of self-destruction. Hongjoong had learned to just say thank you when Seonghwa handed him the soup and even some bread he had stuffed in his pockets as well. 

But Hongjoong was beginning to worry. He couldn’t bear to refuse it with how cold it was getting, but this was a very consistent supply of food which was more than Seonghwa had ever been able to give before . 

“How are you sneaking out this much without your father noticing?” Hongjoong asked after once more drinking the soup. “How has he not noticed the soup being gone?” 

Seonghwa simply shrugged, taking the empty cup back as they reached the warehouse, as he did every time Hongjoong asked. But this time, he didn’t look at Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong frowned, chest tightening. “Seonghwa,” he said, voice a warning as he hoped it was nothing. 

Seonghwa wouldn’t look at him. “He hasn’t been home much,” he said, voice so obviously flat. “He’s been going to the company, and not-” 

Hongjoong suddenly grabbed Seonghwa’s hands, pulling them forward and pushing his sleeves up. No marks. 

“ _ Hongjoong- _ ” Seonghwa pulled his hands back, but Hongjoong already moved on to pressing against his upper arms. Seonghwa tried to push his hands away. “Hongjoong, stop, it’s-” 

Hongjoong’s hands landed just below his chest, pushing lightly against his ribs. 

Seonghwa cried out, jerking away, one hand coming protectively over the area Hongjoong had touched. 

Hongjoong’s hand jerked away as if he’d been burned, Seonghwa breathing harshly through his nose for a moment as Hongjoong pushed forward, shoving his hands away and lifting the jacket and coat covering his torso. 

He had barely lifted it above Seonghwa’s waist before he could see a mottling of purple and yellow bruises scattered along his torso. 

Hongjoong ripped his hands away, lifting wide eyes to Seonghwa who looked at him, lips pressed together and eyes shining as if he was trying to figure out what the hell he could say. 

Hongjoong wanted to… 

He wanted to… 

Something. He needed to  _ do  _ something, say something,  _ anything _ , just stop standing there like a statue, fucking  _ do something-  _

Seonghwa looked at him, eyes shattered, and then Hongjoong was pressed against the wall of the warehouse, Seonghwa’s shaking hands framing his face as he kissed him, harder and more desperate than ever before, like this was something precious he was going to miss. Like this was the last time he would get to kiss him. 

And Hongjoong… Hongjoong let him. Because he was afraid. 

All the time, he was so fucking afraid. Of everything, of everyone,  _ for  _ everyone- he was always so fucking scared because he couldn’t  _ do  _ anything. 

What did it matter that Hongjoong had found out Seonghwa hadn’t told him how bad it had gotten? He could do nothing about it. Regardless, he was useless as always. 

Hongjoong forced them apart, foreheads resting and Seonghwa’s eyes still clenched shut painfully tight as he swallowed, lips red and cheeks flushed, but looking as if prepared for a blow. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Hongjoong breathed, one cold hand coming to trace along Seonghwa’s cheek, his eyes clear and pained. 

Seonghwa leaned into the touch, pressing his lips to Hongjoong palm for a long moment before squeezing his eyes shut tighter. “What could you do if I did?” he whispered, hoarse and hopeless. 

Hongjoong’s chest twisted, eyes burning and vision blurring a little. “That’s never been the point of telling me,” he murmured quietly. “I could never do anything before either, but you still… you still told me everything.” 

Seonghwa used to tell him everything. 

When Seonghwa finally cracked his eyes open, they were dull and raw, like he was feeling so much but was too tired to show it. 

“I…” His eyes trailed Hongjoong’s face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, brushing the back of his hand against Hongjoong’s cheek. “I didn’t mean to hide it, I just didn’t… I didn’t know what to say, and I was… I didn’t want to put that sort of stress on y-” 

“Seonghwa, this is  _ bad _ ,” he said, placing a hand over his chest but not touching the bruised area. “It’s hurting you, and you just never-” He cut himself off as Seonghwa dropped his head. 

He never wanted to shame Seonghwa. Never wanted to blame him for being afraid to say what his father did. 

“How long ago did this happen?” he whispered, rubbing gentle lines along his arms. 

Seonghwa swallowed, and did not raise his head. “A few days, at this point.” 

“A few days, and it still hurts this badly?” Hongjoong demanded softly, lifting Seonghwa’s head carefully to stare in pained disbelief. “Seonghwa-” 

“It was just a bad fight,” He said quickly, hand grasping Hongjoong’s tightly that had touched his chin. As if trying to hold on. “He’s really been gone most days, it was just a night he caught me sneaking out-” 

All those nights, sneaking out. To meet Hongjoong. And Hongjoong knew that his father was in town, that he would be around, and he just kept allowing him to come without even thinking about- 

Hongjoong hugged him, pulling Seonghwa down against him, careful of his abdomen, and was frightened by how quickly Seonghwa clung to him, burying his face in Hongjoong’s neck as he took shaking breaths. 

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong breathed around the knife in his chest. “I’m  _ sorry _ , Seonghwa.” 

Hongjoong could do  _ nothing _ . Nothing but this. He could provide nothing to Seonghwa but the one thing he had always been rich enough to give: comfort. But his own chest was too heavy to say anything comforting, so he just tried to hug as hard as he could, muscles aching with the strain. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered hoarsely, fingers fisted in the back of the Seonghwa’s coat. 

Now, it was his turn. 

“I’ve got you, Seonghwa, I promise.” 

~~~~~~

Wooyoung woke up to someone moving, and blinked awake, staring around at the still-dim light of morning. And seeing as Yeosang was still silent and fast asleep against his back, he knew it wasn’t him shifting around. 

He saw Hongjoong standing, stumbling a little, still half-asleep, as he stepped out of the tangle of bodies. 

He rubbed at his face as he exited the room, taking one swift glance back at them before exiting into the darkness. 

Wooyoung carefully shifted Yeosang’s arms off of around his waist and chest, sitting up carefully and withdrawing from the semi-warmth into the freezing morning air as he tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs. 

Hongjoong paused, hearing the movement behind him as he reached the bottom of the stairs, glancing back up. “What are you doing up?” he whispered. 

There was a little more light in the open area, and Wooyoung took in the haggard look in Hongjoong’s eyes, the dark circles and palor to his skin. But not the kind he got when he was worked too hard. 

Only one person ever made Hongjoong look like this. 

“What happened with Seonghwa?” Wooyoung asked quietly, taking another couple steps down. 

Hongjoong looked confused, but didn’t ask how Wooyoung knew. He just sighed harshly, rubbing at his eyes. “A lot.” 

“Did you guys fight?” he questioned carefully. 

Hongjoong laughed bitterly. “For once in our lives, no, we didn’t.” The amusement died. Hongjoong swallowed with difficulty. “He was fucking black and blue from that fucking asshole,” he whispered harshly. “And just never told me.” He rolled his lips. “I checked with the old man. It’s December 11th. Cold weather won’t stop until at least March.” 

Wooyoung’s heart sank as his stomach churned when Hongjoong took a shaking breath, covering his eyes with one hand. 

“There’s no way he’ll make it to then,” he whispered. “It’s… He’s never going to…” 

Wooyoung took another couple steps, slow and hesitant until he was on the ground with Hongjoong. “It’ll work out, hyung,” He said firmly, trying to act as if he was sure of it. “I know you’re worried, but… I mean, they always go through worse and better patches. He’s lasted this long, he’ll… he’ll make it another few months.” 

Wooyoung didn’t really believe himself. But that was probably the pessimism talking. He was worried for Seonghwa because Wooyoung knew firsthand what happened when someone cruel found a target they liked. 

Hongjoong said nothing for several moments, swallowing audibly. 

“I need to get going,” he said, trying for firm, but it came out like a whisper. “I’ll see you later, Wooyoung.” 

He turned without letting Wooyoung see his face, walking towards the door of the warehouse, and disappearing out of the sheet covering it. 

Wooyoung stood very still. 

Arms wrapped gently around his waist, a mop of ruffled brown hair tickling his neck. 

“It’ll be okay,” Yeosang whispered into the back of his neck. 

Wooyoung grabbed the hands resting against his stomach loosely. And then tighter when loose wasn’t enough. He swallowed. “It’s bad… isn’t it?” 

Yeosang was silent. They all knew it was. They went through rough patches before, but neither Hongjoong nor Seonghwa had ever… they never got this haggard. This angry at themselves and each other. This hopeless. 

“It’ll be okay,” Yeosang said again, as if trying to convince himself, arms tightening around Wooyoung. “It has to be.” 

It had to be okay. Because they didn’t know what they would do if it wasn’t. Didn’t know what Hongjoong and Seonghwa would do. 

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “It’ll be okay.” 

Neither of them were stupid enough to actually believe it. 

But sometimes, hope was all you had. 

~~~~~~~

“I don’t want to go home.” 

It was a breath. Barely even words. As if just a release of air had passed Hongjoong’s ears in the vaguest shape of words. 

Seonghwa curled into Hongjoong’s neck, his hands shaking where they clutched at Hongjoong’s shirt, as if someone would come and try to tear him away, his nose cold where it pressed into the crook of his neck. 

It was a breath against Hongjoong’s skin, not even meant for his ears. 

Hongjoong’s heart stopped as the syllables arranged themselves into a statement Seonghwa had never let pass his lips before. 

Hongjoong pulled him closer, eyes shutting tightly against the pain that tore at his heart as if it meant nothing. 

“Then stay,” He breathed back, unintelligible to even his own ears. 

The wall of the warehouse was cold through Hongjoong’s jacket. 

Seonghwa shook his head slowly, beginning to pull away. 

Hongjoong pulled him back in, crushing him against his chest. 

This was his chance. 

“Hongjoong-” 

“Please,” he begged, voice so quiet, it was nonexistent, lost in the air that seemed to freeze around them. “Just stay.” 

It was such a fucking simple request. 

One Hongjoong had been begging for years. One that Seonghwa always refused without hesitation, even if it was with regret. 

But Seonghwa didn’t immediately refuse. He nosed at Hongjoong’s neck, sighing, shaking his head, but he didn’t say it. 

This time, he didn’t say it. And Hongjoong… for the first time in so long... 

It was like a limb that hadn’t been used in so long. 

For the first time in a long time, Hongjoong felt hope. 

“Please, Seonghwa,” he breathed, pressing his cheek to Seonghwa’s chilled skin. “Just stay. Stay the nigh-” 

Seonghwa tore away, like shoving temptations behind him resolutely, and Hongjoong was left cold as he turned away, pressing hands to his eyes and taking deep breaths. 

Hongjoong was still, hands still raised where he had held Seonghwa, his heart slowly climbing to his throat. 

“Seong-” 

“I  _ can’t _ , Hongjoong,” he hissed, turning around and glaring at Hongjoong, as if angry for giving him the choice. “Do you understand what he would do if he found out I didn’t come home-” 

“Then don’t go back at all,” Hongjoong begged, stepping closer to Seonghwa who stepped back, as if getting close would weaken his resolve. 

“ _ Hongjoong- _ ” 

“Just don’t go back, there’s nothing  _ there  _ for you, Seonghwa,” he pressed desperately. “You said you didn’t want to go home, so  _ don’t _ .”

It was all so fucking simple. 

Why could it never be fucking simple. 

If it was bad enough for Seonghwa to admit not wanting to go back… Hongjoong was scared. But he held onto that fear and fucking refused to let go this time. 

Seonghwa shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I already gave you an answer, Hongjoong,” he said, voice drawn out and ready to snap with tension that ran along it. “I said I would leave after winter, why can’t you just  _ accept  _ that?” 

Because Hongjoong was selfish. “He’s  _ hurting you _ , Seonghwa.” 

He caught Seonghwa’s hand, pulling him to face Hongjoong, his face twisted and torn, shaking. Hongjoong wanted to hold the pieces together, to stop them from breaking away, but Seonghwa kept himself resolutely out of reach. 

“Hongjoong, stop,” he begged quietly. “Just-” His hand braced over Hongjoong’s ready to tear it off. “I have to go.” He didn’t push it off. “I can make it to the end of winter, just-” 

Hongjoong didn’t let go. 

“ _ Hong- _ ” 

“What about those?” Hongjoong demanded, hand gesturing to where he knew bruises still decorated Seonghwa’s torso, something angry flaring in his chest. “He’s never made that many, Seonghwa, he’s-” 

Seonghwa tore his hand away, jerking away and walking away from the warehouse with firm steps. 

Hongjoong caught his hand again. “Seonghwa-” 

“ _ After  _ winter,” he snapped, turning back to Hongjoong with angry eyes begging him to stop pushing. “I told you after winter-” 

“And I’m telling you, I can’t keep letting you go back!” Hongjoong yelled, voice echoing around the vacancies around the warehouse. “Seonghwa, do you understand how it feels, letting you go back when things are like this? Knowing I’ve been letting you go back there for fucking years-”

“Then I’m sure you’ll survive another few months,” Seonghwa said sharply, eyes flashing. “You’ve let me go this long.” 

Hongjoong stood very still. 

Seonghwa didn’t breathe. 

Hongjoong wanted to let go. To turn and prove Seonghwa right. To walk away and let Seonghwa see how deep he’d cut. To know that Seonghwa would feel regret and pain as Hongjoong stormed back into the warehouse. 

Instead, Hongjoong took a shaking breath, not looking away. “I have never once… felt anything other than dsigust… and hatred for myself,” He said, voice low. “Each fucking time I let you go back. And if you…” 

Seonghwa’s jaw tightened. Hongjoong wet his lips stiffly. 

“If you think I ever-” He grit his teeth. “How could you-” 

They stood there, at a stalemate, Seonghwa’s entire frame shaking, and Hongjoong wondered if he breathed on him, if he would break. If those pieces his father had torn away would flutter away into the winter winds that pushed their hair into their eyes. 

Hongjoong pulled on the hand he held. And he was surprised by how easily Seonghwa fell forward, lips crashing together, not fighting the movement, despite his harsh words. 

This was the only comfort Hongjoong could give some days. When words failed and neither of them could speak without creating a rift between them, they had to set words aside and just give whatever shred of happiness they could scrape from their lives. 

And maybe it wasn’t happy. Because as Seonghwa fell back against him, sharp words and snaps traded for sharp tongue and kisses, Hongjoong could only feel something heavy settle in his chest because he knew this was one he had lost. 

But it was no victory for Seonghwa. Hongjoong could feel it in the desperate movement of his lips, just trying to glean some ounce of comfort before needing to return to hell. The way his hands clung to Hongjoong’s hips, and met Hongjoong inch for inch. 

Seonghwa’s tongue was warm, and Hongjoong tried to simply exist, to just forget it all for a moment and just… 

He tore his lips away, dropping to Seonghwa’s neck and kissing the part of his skin that was visible over his coat, sucking at the curve smoothly. Seonghwa gasped, stiffening under the action that Hongjoong had rarely been bold enough to take. 

Hongjoong wanted to give as good as he got. He did it because he wanted to, wanted to make Seonghwa feel good, wanted to give whatever he could. 

His head dropped away, giving Hongjoong room to kiss lines up from his shoulder to his jaw, tongue dragging, and Seonghwa clung to his biceps, as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. 

“H-Hongjoong,” he gasped, a quiet noise in the back of his throat. 

He felt Seonghwa’s throat bob under his lips, and Hongjoong kissed the curve of his neck before sucking gently. Seonghwa tensed, something like a sigh leaving his lips, and Hongjoong did it again, just because he could. 

Hongjoong pulled away with a little noise, Seonghwa taking his face and kissing him, tongue running over his lips and exploring his mouth once more, and Hongjoong wondered if he was afraid of what Hongjoong would say if given the chance to speak. 

Minutes passed until the cold got too much and their breath ran too low, leaving them leaning against each other, breathing heavily and skin pressing firmly against each other. Their eyes were closed against the world, trying to hold down the walls to their little world that crumbled with the cold breeze. 

“Stay,” Hongjoong whispered, one last ditch effort that fell flat. 

“He would do more to me for staying gone all night than anything I could say to piss him off,” Seonghwa breathed quietly, hands pulling away from Hongjoong. 

Hongjoong didn’t quite let him go. “I can’t wait until winter is over,” he whispered. “I can’t, Seonghwa, if I let you go back there one more time, I’m going to-” 

Seonghwa kissed him, sweet and soft and not hard or desperate, pulling away mere seconds later, foreheads resting. 

His eyes seemed to be made of glass, just as fragile as he took Hongjoong’s hand, lacing their fingers tightly. “It’ll be okay,” he lied. “Winter will be over before you know it, Hongjoong.” 

“Seonghwa, please-” 

He let go of his hand, withdrawing slowly. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, Hongjoong,” he promised, already too far for Hongjoong to reach for him. Seonghwa smiled, and Hongjoong could almost believe it was real if his eyes were swimming with such fucking pain. 

“Seonghwa-” 

“I-” Seonghwa hesitated. “Hongjoong, I…” He wet his lips, glancing around as if waiting for someone to appear. Whatever was on his lips never fell because he turned, walking off into the snow that crunched beneath his feet. 

Hongjoong stood there, frozen. Wishing he could just fall into snowflakes and just land on the ground, melt when the sun came back up and just… just be something else. 

Something other than scared. 

Something other than helpless. 

Just until winter. It felt like ice slowly digging into his heart. 

Just get through the fucking winter, he begged. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong stepped off the boat, and the old man stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t bother comin’ tomorrow,” he told him, voice gruff. “There’s a snow storm supposed to blow through. Not the next day either, my daughter’s comin’ in town, so just do whatever it is you young people are doing these days.” 

Hongjoong stared, not really understanding for a moment, but the old man didn’t care enough to hang around, walking back towards his home, and Hongjoong felt part of his brain shut down and then kick start again. 

Stay at home. For two days. 

It wasn’t until a snowflake landed on his nose, jerking him out of his staring idiocy that he shivered violently, taking off his sopping wet jacket (it was warmer without it) and started walking out of the docking area. 

The others would never believe it. 

He reached the gate, pausing at it and glancing around. 

He frowned slightly, turning to look behind him, then back at the street. Nothing but freshly fallen snow. Not a footprint in sight. 

No Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong hesitated. He hadn’t missed a night in over a week. He was always waiting right here. 

And the answer was clear: he probably couldn’t get away tonight. 

But the terrifying part was trying to figure out what caused him not to be able to get away after so long. 

Hongjoong walked back to the warehouse slowly, as if Seonghwa would come running up, panting about how he got held up and apologizing for making him wait. But even dragging his feet, Hongjoong reached the familiar broken down area alone. 

He waited at the front door, glancing around in the darkness. 

Still no Seonghwa. 

He sighed, going inside, the walls blocking some of the frigid wind and immediately making him a little bit warmer. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to see a figure sitting on the steps to the catwalk. Hongjoong paused, squinting in the dim light afforded them by the moon. “Yeosang? Why are you still awake?” he whispered, aware of the others sleeping upstairs. 

Yeosang stood, the sound echoing in the vast chamber. “Seonghwa came by earlier,” he said quietly, somehow his voice echoing less than his movements. “He said he was going to be caught up in his house for a couple of days, probably.” 

Hongjoong’s stomach dropped. “Was he okay?” 

Yeosang was quiet for a moment. “He didn’t want to hang around. He seemed nervous. And I saw some cover up on his cheek, but he didn’t give me a chance to ask if something had happened. I think his dad’s been antsy. Coming and going randomly. I think it’s putting him on edge.” 

Hongjoong wanted to turn around and go to Seonghwa’s house, to see for himself what was wrong, to not let Seonghwa leave until he finally spilled everything. Like they used to. 

Words were all they had, before. Before the kisses and everything else, all they could do was unload everything clogging their lungs and hope it made things better. Now, it seemed all they could do was offer that physical comfort when words seemed like they weren’t enough anymore. 

“I wanted to let you know as soon as possible. Since you worry.” 

Hongjoong couldn’t see Yeosang’s expression in the dark, and God knows he’d never know what he was thinking from his tone of voice, but Hongjoong could practically feel a vibration in the air. 

“Was he that bad?” Hongjoong questioned, chest twisting, bracing himself. 

Yeosang was silent. “He was worse than I’ve seen him in a while. Maybe ever. He’s never acted paranoid before. He keeps acting as if his father’s gonna jump out and grab him.” 

Hongjoong wet his lips, trying to decide what to do. He could wait by his street tomorrow until his father left, and then talk to Seonghwa. Really talk to him. Not let him go until everything was out in the air. 

Hongjoong didn’t know what was happening to make Seonghwa afraid, but he had never been afraid of his father before. Worried about, yes. Intimidated by, yes. But actually afraid? No. 

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle it. Thanks, Yeosang.” 

There was silence, so Hongjoong could only assume that he nodded. 

“Let’s head to bed,” He said, reaching until he felt Yeosang’s arm and started pushing him up the stairs. “It’s late.” 

“You might have to sleep on top of someone,” Yeosang warned. “Jongho’s here, and Yunho’s been starfishing.” 

Hongjoong froze. “Jongho’s here again?” he asked. 

Yeosang paused, and Hongjoong could see him turn back around. “He’s been here more nights than he’s not, lately. You haven’t noticed?” 

Hongjoong would stumble in in the pitch black and then drag himself away before the sun rose. He hadn’t really… had time to notice. 

“Why?” 

Yeosang sighed gently. “Apparently, it’s better than home. He said something about his foster mom just losing her shit over everything. He’s not officially gone, he says, but he hasn’t gone home for more than a few hours in a couple of weeks. I thought you either noticed or already knew. Sorry, I would have told you, hyung.” 

And Hongjoong felt like he had missed a step in the dark. 

Jongho had practically run away from home… and he just hadn’t noticed. 

Hadn’t even thought to ask. Hadn’t even noticed him sleeping in their little room, but a handful of times. And he’d never asked anyone about it. 

It felt wrong. It felt...irresponsible. Like he had just left something behind. Like forgetting something important. 

Hongjoong swallowed the guilt that rose in the back of his throat. One step at a time. 

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll talk to him about it.” 

“You’re gonna try to convince him to go home?” Yeosang asked, eyebrow raised. 

“No,” Hongjoong murmured as they began their trek once more. “But I want to talk to him about it. I… I didn’t even know.” 

They paused at the top of the steps, Yeosang pausing in his path, keeping them both there. Hongjoong could feel his cold eyes boring against his skin. 

“Don’t try and create another thing to blame yourself about, hyung,” Yeosang said, voice firm and resolute. “Any one of us could have stayed up late to tell you. With Seonghwa and the boat, Jongho being kept safe with us isn’t your biggest priority. We’ve got Jongho, you should be focusing on keeping you and Seonghwa alive to see the end of winter. Got it?” 

And whether Hongjoong got it or not, Yeosang had said his piece, so he walked away, steps quiet against the metal catwalk as he entered into the room. 

He wasn’t mad at Hongjoong, he could tell that much. But it only added insult to injury for Hongjoong to constantly be scolded by the younger- both for things he did and things he blamed himself for. 

He followed, stepping into the room that was warmer with body heat, and feeling his way through until he found a little space between San and Yunho, wiggling in and settling against the floor. 

Squinting in the darkness, he could make out half of Jongho being crushed by Mingi. He settled in, staring at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, he would take care of things with Seonghwa. And then he’d come back, and he’d set things straight with Jongho and the others. It had been too long with him leaving them to their own devices. Hongjoong… 

_ Fuck _ , Hongjoong had missed them. 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong waited for the red corvette to pass. 

The sky was dark with clouds that were slowly releasing flurries, and Hongjoong was sure that by mid-afternoon, they would be in the middle of a storm. 

But he had to see Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong waited. 

Waited. 

The sun climbed higher, the snow falling quicker, and he shivered, trying to rub some amount of warmth into his stiff limbs- 

The sound of an engine passing drew his attention up, and he watched that man’s car pull away, driving away on the icy roads. 

Hongjoong would usually wait to make sure he didn’t turn around, but he was already taking off down the street, almost slipping on several patches of ice, but he suddenly felt something rising in his throat, telling him to hurry. 

And Hongjoong was being dumb. He was being paranoid. He was being ridiculous. 

But the potential image of Seonghwa laying there, bruised and God knew what else- 

No. He would be fine. He would be okay- 

Hongjoong pounded on his window, perhaps, too hard, rattling the glass and shaking snow off the sill. 

There was a moment of silence that stretched for an eternity. 

And then, through the fogged window, he saw Seonghwa appear, sliding the window up, frowning. 

And whoever he expected, Hongjoong was not it. His expression flew wide in shock. 

“Hongjoong,” he breathed, staring at him like he might not be completely real. “W-What are you doing here?” he demanded. “It’s almost noon, what about-” 

“I’ve got two days free,” he said, breath condensating between them. “Because of the storm, and his daughter’s coming in town.” 

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned Seonghwa’s face, and saw the well-done but clearly-there make up up his cheek and around the corner of his eye. 

“What did he do to you?” Hongjoong couldn’t help but demand. 

This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to smile and tell Seonghwa he missed him. He was supposed to tell him they should go on a walk. He was supposed to hold his hand and ask him how he’d been- 

He wasn’t supposed to sound so angry. He wasn’t supposed to attack, to demand. 

He could see the moment Seonghwa’s eyes closed off. “Hongjoong-” 

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said quickly, eyes pinching. “I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to fight.” 

Seonghwa stared for a moment, defensive. “Why are you here, then? I told them to tell you-” 

“Come on a walk with me?” Hongjoong asked, gesturing towards the street. 

Seonghwa blinked, taken aback. 

He never used to be surprised when Hongjoong asked to go on walks. Had it really been so long? 

Seonghwa’s surprise faded into something softer. “Hongjoong… there’s a snow storm coming. It’ll be here by this afternoon-” 

“It’ll wait a few minutes, won’t it?” Hongjoong asked, stepping closer, eyes raw. “Please?” 

Seonghwa sighed, leaning on the window sill, shoulders heavy. “Why do you want to go on a walk?” 

Hongjoong’s heart hurt. They never… never needed a reason before. 

“I’ve missed you,” Hongjoong said quietly. 

“I only missed last night,” Seonghwa said, frowning. “You saw my the day before yesterday.” 

Had he and Seonghwa really gotten so caught up in their new boundaries… that they just… forgot what they had once been? 

“Seonghwa…” Hongjoong swallowed thickly, something cold settling in his stomach. “When was the last time we  _ talked _ ?” 

“The day before yesterday.” 

“No,” Hongjoong whispered, snowflakes clinging to his hair. “No, Seonghwa, we… we haven’t talked in… in a long time.” Seonghwa’s expression drew down. “We used to tell each other  _ everything _ ,” he said quickly. “You were never afraid to tell me what he had done to you. I never… I never tried to hide when I was having a hard time…” 

It was cold in the snow. 

“We took this extra step towards each other… and suddenly…” Hongjoong’s brow pinched, “we were so obsessed with  _ caring _ . We-We didn’t want to hurt the others, we suddenly couldn’t stand to see each other in our situations, we wanted to spare each other  _ everything _ , as if- as if we had the luxury to try and shield each other.” 

Hongjoong had always hated seeing Seonghwa go home, but after he realized they were something more, it become unthinkable, and he panicked. And when he panicked, it threw things off. And Seonghwa hadn’t been prepared to deal with the change that crossing the lines of friends would bring with it. It was like opening an oven, hot air rushing out and knocking them over with its blast. 

That first kiss… 

Maybe it came at the worst time. Maybe it was the best. 

But it came a time when neither of them were prepared for it. Neither were ready for it. 

“I… I want… to talk to you again,” Hongjoong whispered. 

He  _ was  _ happy. This was not a lie. This was not fake. But… happiness wasn’t the only thing they needed. 

“Without… without trying to distract each other from everything. I don’t-” His throat caught. “I don’t want us to be distractions. That’s not- That’s not what you are to me, Seonghwa, you’re not just a distraction from a shit situations, and I’ve been- I’ve been using you like one, and it’s…” His voice died as Seonghwa swallowed, eyes staring at Hongjoong like he couldn’t look away. “It’s not what you are to me.” 

Seonghwa stared. His eyes shifted and shimmered, as if trying to avoid being in one place too long. Like he was trying not to get caught. 

Hongjoong held his breath. Please, he begged. Let me fix what changed. 

Seonghwa swallowed. “Let me get a jacket,” he breathed, withdrawing into his room. 

Hongjoong’s shoulders fell, a breath of relief hitting him hard in the chest. He walked to the front of the house, waiting at the end of the driveway until the front door opened and Seonghwa stepped out, coat drawn tightly around his neck. 

The first block was passed in silence as Hongjoong tried to think of something to say. Seonghwa stared at the road, kicking snow out of the way as they blinked through the flurries trying to attack their eyes. 

Hongjoong felt his heart grow heavier with each step. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa had never been… like this. 

Somehow, being closer than ever had made them… this. Silent and not looking at each other and avoiding eye contact and  _ awkward _ . 

Hongjoong rubbed at his eyes, sighing, and his foot caught a piece of slick snow. One leg went forward as he flailed to catching something. 

Seonghwa grabbed him, both of them struggling to keep their footing as Hongjoong cursed, so fucking tired of this goddamn ice as Seonghwa pulled him to his feet, making sure he was steady, but not quite letting go. 

“You okay?” he asked, glancing at Hongjoong’s bottom half and brushing from snow from his pants. He looked back up at Hongjoong, and Hongjoong… 

Hongjoong stared at him, mouth dry. 

Seonghwa frownd. “Did you hit-” 

“I’m miserable right now,” he said, words tumbling over each other, like snow rolling over itself in an avalanche that couldn’t be held back any longer. “The thought of having to go back on that boat is awful and makes me want to curl up and give up. I come home and I feel like I haven’t been warm in weeks, and everything fucking hurts, and I haven’t see the others in fucking  _ weeks _ , Seonghwa.” 

It came out a jumbled mess, Seonghwa’s eyes widening slightly either in surprise or horror, his hands loose on Hongjoong’s arms. 

He took a breath. “I haven’t seen anyone else in  _ weeks _ , and I just found out  _ last night  _ that Jongho has practically run away from home. He’s been sleeping at the warehouse more than he hasn’t, and I saw him there. I fucking  _ saw _ him, but I couldn’t make time to fucking ask anyone about it. I just ignored it. I just kept telling myself I was doing something else for them, I was getting us money, I was doing it for them-” 

His voice broke, and he had to draw himself away from Seonghwa’s grip, pressing hands to eyes that were burning with guilt and everything of weeks… 

Weeks of holding everything in… 

He and Seonghwa had seen each other every fucking night. And yet, Hongjoong felt like a soda can ready to fucking explode at the slightest pressure. 

“I wasn’t doing it for them,” he breathed, heat burning out of his eyes and tracing down his cheeks. He pressed harder. “It wasn’t for them. I did it for  _ me _ . To make myself feel better. To have an excuse to say I was doing something. No one fucking wanted me to. No one… No one is fucking  _ happy _ , Seonghwa. They’re  _ miserable _ , watching me go through this, and  _ I’m _ miserable, making myself go through this-” 

He breathed hard, lungs shaking as more tears fell. 

“And I- I never fucking gave them a goddamn thought. I ignored them all, and I just did what I thought would make me able to sleep at night.” The self-digust in his voice only made the tears fall harder. “And I- I took it out on you. I could see how unhappy everyone was, and I just wanted to  _ fix  _ something, but I only made things worse for you. I made you… I made it seem like  _ your  _ fault for staying, like I was  _ blaming  _ you, as if  _ I  _ was the person going through the hardest time with you going home.” 

He laughed at himself. Shaking and pathetic and hollow. 

“And you kissed me, and I fucking…” He laughed again. “I fucking latched on, and I meant  _ every fucking word _ , Seonghwa,” he breathed, afraid to move his hands and see what was happening. “Every word was true, but I… I still used you as a distraction. Something to escape with, and I tried to be a distraction for you, something to just let you forget the  _ shit  _ going on, and it… it’s  _ fucked up, Seonghwa _ . Since when did we  _ use  _ each other?” he demanded, lips curling in an attempt to just stop the tears. 

Hongjoong… had made so many fucking mistakes during a time when he really shouldn’t have. At a time when it was crucial that he get it together. 

But Hongjoong… felt so fucking much for Seonghwa. He always had. From the moment they met, and Hongjoong stared at this kid who had so much he had wanted, but Hongjoong had never envied him a day in his life. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice wavering dangerously, and he prayed he could just keep it together (despite having lost all control long ago). “I’m  _ so fucking sorry _ , Seonghwa,” he breathed, choking on the tears that fell. 

He took shuddering breath after shaking breath that he almost couldn’t get in, the cold breeze pushing snow against his face, making his limbs tremble with cold and everything else. 

This wasn’t how he imagined this going. He wanted to remind Seonghwa of how good they had it before, how things changed, and see if they could talk their way back to what they were before. 

But now… now Hongjoong just felt like he was floating out in thunderclouds. Bombarded at every side, tossed back and forth with thunder crashing against his ears and lightning making him dance away, sick and so fucking tired-

The arms that wrapped around him… were not like the ones from these past weeks. 

They weren’t tight or desperate or afraid or clinging or pulling or grabbing. 

They were gentle. Wrapped around Hongjoong in a way that felt like the summer when Seonghwa and he had fallen asleep in the park, arms loose around each other for no other reason than to make sure they stayed together. Gentle in the way they barely touched Hongjoong, as if afraid of bruising him. Gentle, as his face was pressed to Seonghwa’s snow-damp coat, smelling mint and fabric softener. 

Like being wrapped in a breeze, Seonghwa’s head resting against Hongjoong’s, his breaths slightly uneven. 

Hongjoong didn’t cling back to him. Didn’t desperately try to stay as close as possible, didn’t fear being separated, didn’t cling and hope and pray that Seonghwa wouldn’t leave- 

Hongjoong simply rested against him, his hands barely wisps of breath against Seonghwa’s waist. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa breathed, and it wasn’t scared, it wasn’t desperate. 

There was a long silence where neither moved, simply existing as if there was an inch between any part of them touching. 

Seonghwa’s voice was soft. Regretful. 

“He’s hit me so much more,” he breathed, voice surprisingly strong even for its quietness. “So much more than he used to, and I don’t…” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know what I did or what I can do. He’s just so angry all the time, and I… I can’t even look at him anymore because I just don’t know how the hell it all got so fucking  _ bad _ .” 

He wasn’t crying. Not like Hongjoong who still had hot tears cooling into icicles on his cheeks. His voice was soft and sad, but strong, not in danger of breaking. Yet. 

“And sometimes I scared that he’s…. He’s going to just keep going. I’m scared when I wake up and I can’t even fucking sit up because it  _ hurts _ so bad.” His breath was unsteady. “And I want… I don’t want everything I do to be colored by him. But every time I leave the house, every time I see you and the others, I just… all I can see and think and hear is  _ him _ . And it makes me so angry and sad and  _ hateful _ . It just makes me want to fucking  _ leave _ .” 

Hongjoong didn’t tell him to stay. Didn’t beg Seonghwa to make his decision. He was silent, squeezing Seonghwa’s hip gently, not possessive, but comforting. 

Like they used to be. 

“But I’m so scared for you and the others,” he whispered, breath cold. “I mean it every time: I don’t want to leave you with nothing. I couldn’t live with myself if I left and then something happened, and you were left with nothing because I… I left.”

Seonghwa’s arms tightened around him the barest amount, stiffening, not grabbing. 

“I care about you so much, Hongjoong,” he whispered. “That’s why I kissed you. Why I wanted to stop worrying you, why I stay in that house… You have always been someone who has been so fucking important to me, and I… I’m  _ sorry _ ,” he murmured. “I’m sorry I hid things from you, I’m sorry that we turned what should have been the best part of our lives into something so twisted.” He swallowed, throat bobbing. “I’m sorry that even now, I still won’t leave.” 

“Don’t apologize for that one,” Hongjoong said quietly, voice muffled by his coat. “Don’t apologize for that, that isn’t your  _ fault _ , Seonghwa-  _ none  _ of that is your fault. I can’t believe I ever made it sound as if I blamed you for anything.”

God, Hongjoong hated himself. For ever making Seonghwa feel like that. 

“Whatever that man does, whatever comes from it- it is  _ never  _ your fault, Seonghwa.” 

Hongjoong felt dirty. Ugly. Disgusting, for ever making Seonghwa think that Hongjoong blamed him. That he was angry at him for staying, rather than being angry at the idea that Seonghwa was getting hurt and Hongjoong was unable to stop it. 

Seonghwa’s hand traced up Hongjoong’s back slowly, cupping the back of Hongjoong’s head and holding him softly, as if afraid to hold him any tighter. 

“I don’t want to wait until winter ends,” he confessed hoarsely. “I don’t want to keep fighting- both my father and you. I just… I just want to be with you, Hongjoong.” His voice wavered as he spoke his name. “All of you, but I just… I want to  _ be _ with you. Correctly, this time. Better than we did it before. I just want us to be  _ happy  _ and far…  _ far  _ away from this fucking hell. I don’t want to spend another minute in that fucking house and I never want to see that man again.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, his tears stopping but not drying. 

“You could come now,” Hongjoong offered. He didn’t demand. He didn’t beg. He didn’t lilt his voice in what he hoped was an appealing manner. He stated a fact as it existed, neutral and genuine. 

Seonghwa was quiet. “I know,” He whispered, warm air puffing against Hongjoong’s cheek. 

Hongjoong hadn’t realized Seonghwa was crying until a cold droplet hit the back of his neck. 

He stiffened at the sensation, Seonghwa’s voice clear and strong, but silent tears sliding off his cheeks. 

“I know,” he said again. “And I will, Hongjoong,” he promised. “The first day it’s warm enough… I will leave with you, and I will never fucking look back.” 

Hongjoong didn’t tell him to promise. 

He just trusted that Seonghwa meant it. 

“We’ll be ready for when you do,” Hongjoong said, and his  _ was _ a promise. “We’ll wait, Seonghwa.” 

“I’m sorry I keep making you wait,” he breathed, voice pinching. 

“I don’t want to wait,” Hongjoong said because they were being  _ honest _ . Like they used to. “But if that’s what it takes… I’ll wait as long as you need. I’ve waited this long, haven’t I?” 

Seonghwa laughed, wet and weak and a thousand times more shattered than his voice. 

He said nothing. Hongjoong couldn’t find anything else to say either. He let himself relax a little against Seonghwa’s chest, eyes closing firmly. It was warm and solid, and Seonghwa leaned back against him a little more, Hongjoong gladly taking some of his weight from him. 

“ _ I love you. _ ” 

Hongjoong, for the life of him, could not tell who said it first. If either of them actually even said it. For all he knew, it would be the wind that passed by in a shape just close enough to words to confuse them. It could have been inside his head. It could have been a hopeful hallucination. 

Both of them pulled away, slowly, as if checking around corners before turning, braced for what they might find hiding there. 

They stared, terrified eyes into terrified eyes, hands still holding onto each other loosely. 

Neither of them knew who had said it. 

Hongjoong’s frozen fingers shook as he lifted them to cup Seonghwa’s cheek gently, careful of the bruise he knew was hiding there. Seonghwa’s eyes didn’t close, still locked onto Hongjoong who felt too afraid to even blink. As if closing his eyes for that fraction of a second would shatter all of it that was being held together carefully with glue and hope. 

Seonghwa kissed his palm, gentle and fleeting, and Hongjoong ran gentle fingers over the curve of his cheek, brushing some of the hair that hung low in his eyes back. 

Seonghwa’s eyes closed, a braver man than Hongjoong. 

He kissed his wrist that was near his lips, feeling just like a snowflake landing against his skin. 

Hongjoong’s fingers curled slightly as he pulled his hand away, the limb hovering between them. He was scared. 

Seonghwa swallowed, throat bobbing as he opened his eyes again. 

“Did we mess up too much?” he asked, voice hoarse and eyes rough. 

Hongjoong… 

Hongjoong wasn’t sure which of them said it first. If either of them even actually said it. But the words resonated inside of him like an echo bouncing off the curves of a cave, rebounding and reverberating until it vibrated the very air inside of him, setting it alight with movement and shivers. 

Hongjoong shook his head slowly. “No,” he breathed, scanning Seonghwa’s tormented expression. “No, we just… took a wrong turn, before. But we’re… we’re getting back on track, I think.” 

Seonghwa nodded slowly. “So it wouldn’t make me a horrible person… if I asked for one more chance to kiss you? Right this time?” 

Hongjoong wet his chapped lips, blinking away snow flurries. 

“You can ask.” 

This time, it was Seonghwa’s hand, coming and cupping Hongjoong’s cheek, barely there. “Hongjoong… can I kiss you properly this time?” 

He wanted to smile, but he was too scared. 

“Yeah.” 

From the moment he said it, he knew it was different. The air was charged with something different from before. Their expressions were different, their holds, their stances, their thoughts, their minds… it was all different. 

So fucking different. 

No distraction, no begging, no desperation. 

It was just Seonghwa. 

No trying to forget, no hoping to just feel something other than fear, no clenching his eyes shut against the pain in his chest. 

Just Seonghwa. 

All around him, in the air, in his hands, in his lungs, in his eyes, in the snow- 

All Seonghwa. 

Wisps that surrounded, wrapping around Hongjoong like an embrace that didn’t quite touch but radiated a warmth that wasn’t… wasn’t just warding off the cold. It was something like a balm, something that soothed and calmed, even more than when Hongjoong had been frantically trying to take that. 

But Seonghwa gave it, in a gentle movement against his lips, a gentle hand against the small of back, like both of them were pieces of glass that were held together by nothing but sheer willpower, leaning against each other and just hoping that they could catch the pieces that fell out. 

It felt… deeper. Inside of Hongjoong, it reached deeper, something warm and reaching, like arms holding him tightly. Not hot and clinging, binding and scared. 

It felt like laying in abandoned parks during summer evenings, both of them pushing off going back, just laying and staring up at the sky that turned rainbow and then dark and then sparling with thousands of stars. 

_ “What if you had actually watched where you were going that night?” Seonghwa would ask, a laugh hiding in his throat.  _

_ Hongjoong would stare at the sky, sticky and humid, Seonghwa laying beside him, and he would hum. “I never would have made it this far, I guess.”  _

_ Seonghwa would hit him. “I’m being serious.”  _

_ Hongjoong wouldn’t look at him. “I am, too.”  _

Hongjoong couldn’t breathe. He felt like he didn’t need to. As if Seonghwa was the oxygen he needed, pressing into his lungs. 

And when their lips parted, their foreheads kept touching. 

Hongjoong opened his eyes, unafraid for once. 

Seonghwa stared at him, chest rising and falling slowly, eyes gentle and soft, but sad. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.” 

“Me, too,” Hongjoong said, one hand coming up to touch Seonghwa’s cheek that was cold. “I’m sorry about where we wound up, but not where we went.” 

He still wanted this with Seonghwa. 

This. Not whatever they had before. But  _ this  _ part, where they gave each other everything. Their bodies and smiles and thoughts and fears and touches. 

All of it. Only for each other. 

“It’s cold,” Seonghwa said, shivering and glancing at the snow gathering on them. 

Hongjoong gave a small smile. “I didn’t notice.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, head dropping onto Hongjoong’s shoulder as he shook with laughter in his chest. “Are you going to be sappy now?” he asked, voice a little watery. 

“We’ve always been saps,” Hongjoong chuckled quietly. “The kids are horrified by us. We fall asleep in  _ fields _ together, Seonghwa.” 

Another shaking laughter. “We’re a mess,” he murmured. 

“We’ve always been a mess,” Hongjoong said without missing a beat. He ran a hand up Seonghwa’s spine, feeling the soft fabric of his coat. “But we’re working on it, aren’t we?” 

Seonghwa nodded silently. 

It felt like something being fixed. Like a jagged piece being held up to a jagged piece and their jagged edges lining up until it blended into one piece. 

“Will you come back to the warehouse?” Hongjoong asked quietly. And it was a question. Not a request. 

Seonghwa sat up, his expression a soft frown. “I shouldn’t,” he said quietly. “My father will likely be home early because of the storm.” He looked up at the sky. “Will you guys be okay?” 

“We’ve got the windows covered, but I’ll keep them in the upper rooms. It’s easier to block the cold up there.” 

It felt good. 

Seonghwa nodded slowly. “I...I might sneak out after he goes to bed,” Seonghwa said firmly, as if finally deciding. 

Hongjoong frowned. “Are you sure?” he questioned, eyes tracing Seonghwa’s cheek and eyes. “The storm might still be bad. And I don’t… don’t want you getting in more trouble, Seonghwa.” 

And Seonghwa… Seonghwa smiled. 

It was muted and small and quiet, but it was there. Reaching into his eyes, like shining a light through shattered crystal, something beautiful but heartbreaking shining through. 

Hongjoong felt like someone had dunked him into a hot tub, burning his skin and shocking his chilled blood. Seonghwa placed a hand against his cheek, brushing the skin there gently as he leaned forward, pressing cold lips to Hongjoong’s forehead and resting there for a moment. 

Goosebumps tore across his skin as Seonghwa smiled warmly against his skin. 

“I’ve missed you,” he breathed lips tracing the words. “I want to have a little more time with you. I won’t go if the storm is bad, but… I’d like to see you again. Tonight.” 

Hongjoong swallowed around the lump in his throat as he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Just be safe getting out.” 

Seonghwa pulled away and his eyes shone bright, truly alive for the first time in… weeks? Months? They shone at Hongjoong, bright with… with  _ hope _ . 

Hongjoong couldn’t breathe. 

“Be safe in the storm,” Seonghwa said quietly. 

Hongjoong nodded dumbly, and Seonghwa chuckled, something light and airy. He kissed Hongjoong’s forehead again, pulling away with bright eyes. 

“I missed you.” 

It made Hongjoong’s heart hurt, but it felt so fucking good. 

Like pruning a tree. Cutting off pieces, causing pain, but… it helped it grow straight. It helped it stand steady and strong, not weighed down by all the garbage. 

“I missed you, too,” he breathed. “I’ll wait up for you tonight.” 

Seonghwa’s lips trembled a little, but he pressed them together, smiling as his eyes shone with mist. “Okay,” he whispered. 

They left. And Hongjoong watched Seonghwa disappear into the distance, unafraid to watch him go. He forced himself to watch. Because he owed Seonghwa that much. For being braver than Hongjoong. 

“I love you.” 

It was lost in the snow, just a single snowflake hidden among flurries of thousands. But it was still there. 

You would never find it, but it was there. 

~~~~~~~

“Oh, sure, the first time he sneaks out in days, and it’s just to visit Hongjoon-”

Jongho elbowed Mingi who yelped, glaring at him. “Don’t be an ass.” 

“We missed him, too!” Mingi declared.

“Are you sucking his dick?” Yunho questioned, eyebrow raised. Mingi pretended to throw up. “Then stop complaining.” 

“Can you guys stop with the sex talk?” Hongjoong requested, laying down on some boxes and staring at the rotting ceiling. “It makes me very uncomfortable.” 

“We’ve seen how you show up at night,” Jongho snorted. “It does  _ not  _ make you uncomfortable.” 

Hongjoong sat up, just to glare at him. “It makes me uncomfortable when  _ you _ talk about it. Don’t y’all have places to be hooligans at?” he demanded. 

“In this fucking weather?” Wooyoung asked, lifting his head where it rested across Yeosang’s lap (said boy was leaning against the wall, half asleep). “Don’t worry, hyung, we’ll stay in here where it’s warm, and you and Seonghwa can go out and do your little freaky freak-” 

“ _ Stop _ ,” Hongjoong sighed, throwing his head back down. 

He couldn’t feel real annoyance. Hongjoong felt as if he was existing in a bubble right now. As if nothing could breach into the little invisible haven he had been gifted. 

“Hyung.” 

The others were still bickering about Hongjoong and his sexual activities, but Yeosang stared at him, eyes cold but lips twitching. 

“I’m glad everything worked out.” 

Wooyoung glanced between them, frowning, as if trying to figure out what Yeosang meant. Hongjoong hadn’t said a word of what happened this morning to anyone, but Yeosang’s eyes shone with understanding, and Hongjoong really had to know just how much this kid picked up on. 

Wooyoung stared at Yeosang. “What worked out?” he demanded. “What have you two been talking about?” 

Yeosang just leaned his head back against the wall, as if intentending to go right back to sleep. “Yeosang,” Wooyoung demanded, poking his stomach. “What are you talking about? Why are you keeping  _ secrets _ ?”

Yeosang just swatted his hands away, not even looking. 

Hongjoong settled back against the crates, shivering as another breeze blew through, and listening as wind rattled the scraps outside and boards that blocked the windows. 

He hoped it let up enough for Seonghwa to come. 

~~~~~~

The wind was bitter. The snow that blew into his face stung with the cold. 

But Seonghwa still walked resolutely through the snow. It wasn’t as bad as it had been during the day, but he was at least sure he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. 

He existed without thought, just focusing on keeping his footing over the slick ice, until he saw the warehouse rising in the distance. And then he walked faster. 

He had been so… 

Maybe even he himself hadn’t realized how dark everything had gotten. How much he just wanted to… stay in, lock himself in his room, ignore the world and stop risking his father’s wrath. 

Hongjoong was right. Seonghwa had been lonely, despite seeing Hongjoong every night, walking with him despite the way it angered his father. Seonghwa had been reckless. Anything to piss his father off was fine with him. 

And Seonghwa hadn’t realized how fucked up everything actually was…. Until Hongjoong was crying in the snow and spilling his every secret from weeks that had passed. 

How had they let it get so bad, thinking they were doing better than ever?

How had they been more careful than ever, but leaving each other so fucking alone? 

He ducked into the sheet, grateful for the block for the wind, glancing around the empty bottom area. It was empty, but he heard voices upstairs, and turned towards the catwalk. 

Hongjoong smiled at him where he sat on the top step. 

Seonghwa’s heart flipped, froze, and exploded in that order. 

God, it had been so fucking long. So long since either of them had been able to just fucking smile and mean it. Seonghwa stood at the bottom of the stairs, shaking snow off of himself, lips twitching instinctively. 

“Hey,” he greeted as Hongjoong tilted his head. 

“Do you understand what I’ve been putting up with today?” he sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Everyone is convinced that you and I have had some big sexual revelation or something,” he sighed, standing. “And Yeosang is the only person I can trust.” 

Seonghwa chuckled, slowly climbing the cold metal steps. “I’ve been saying it for a while, if you recall.” 

“You only said it because he’s not a shit like the others,” Hongjoong said petulantly. 

“I know what Yeosang is thinking,” Seonghwa said, shrugging. “The others are conniving.” 

He paused on the step below Hongjoong, making the other just slightly taller than himself. 

“They built us a nest, Seonghwa.” His eyes were bright and annoyed even as his lips twitched. 

Seonghwa’s eyebrows went up. “A… nest?” 

Hongjoong gesture for him to follow, stopping at the first room that Yeosang and Wooyoung had once occupied in the warmer months. Seonghwa followed, laughing when he saw a little pile of blankets arranged in a circle in the middle of the floor. 

“It’s actually a nest.” 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong griped. “They spent the entire afternoon on it.” 

Seonghwa stepped inside, kicking his snow-crusted boots off. “Well, it at least looks warm,” he said, stepping into the circle and sitting down, pulling blankets over his lap. 

Hongjoong watched him with a strange expression. Seonghwa smiled. “What? They made it, we might as well use it.” 

Hongjoong stared for another moment before sighing, kicking his shoes off and walking over, muttering about how fucking cold the floor was until he dropped down beside Seonghwa who lifted the blankets and allowed him to enter, Hongjoong shivering and pressing directly to Seonghwa’s side. 

They laughed as cold limbs pressed together, the blankets arranged around their shoulders and laps, leaving just their faces exposed to the air. Hongjoong’s legs tangled with his, their arms threaded together to keep themselves close. 

Seonghwa felt like… 

Like rolling down a hill during spring, when Wooyoung dared him he wouldn’t. That freefall and innocence that bubbled up in laughter when you couldn’t believe you were actually doing something. 

Like kids huddling beneath blankets and shining flashlights, hoping their parents didn’t hear. 

Between them, they heated the blankets to a comfortable temperature as Hongjoong asked Seonghwa what he had been doing. 

It was dark, the only light from the moon outside the windows that were covered. 

“He came home pissed because the storm is apparently messing with shipments,” Seonghwa said quietly, Hongjoong tracing a gentle hand along his arm. “I just stayed in my room. He went to bed early because everyone he was trying to call was shut down from the storm. It wasn’t that bad. He seemed too pissed to really bother with me much. I just heard him yelling at nothing in the kitchen.” 

Hongjoong hummed gently, nodding against Seonghwa’s shoulder. 

“I’m glad,” Hongjoong murmured. 

“Where would you want to live if we weren’t here?” It fell out without Seonghwa really thinking about it, a little half-formed musing that found life in the air between them. 

Hongjoong was quiet for a while, and Seonghwa wondered if he even heard him, but then he sighed. “Not the city,” he said quietly, like a secret. “I’m tired of the city. I want somewhere further in the country. Not… the middle of nowhere… but somewhere with space and stuff. Not all this… concrete and lights. I wanna see the stars again.” 

Seonghwa hummed, head dropping a little. “I’d like that,” he whispered. “Somewhere you didn’t need to go out. You could just… do your own thing.” 

Hongjoong sighed, turning his face into Seonghwa’s shoulder. “Don’t ask me that kind of stuff, I’ll start getting sad.” 

Seonghwa’s arms found his shoulder, pulling him close. “Sorry. I was just thinking.” 

“I want a big house,” Hongjoong went on, regardless. “Yeosang and Wooyoung are always talking about that mansion they wanted… the one they always build on the beach.” He swallowed. “I want a big yard. So we have somewhere outside to go without worrying about people. And I want to build a skatepark for Yeosang.” 

Seonghwa couldn’t help but laugh sadly. “Just for him?”

“Just for him,” Hongjoong assured him, laughing wetly. “And a library for you.” 

“With a fireplace?” Seonghwa joked. 

He had always been in awe of those movie with the huge libraries. He had brought it up a couple times, but Hongjoong acted as if it was the only distinguishing feature he’d been given for Seonghwa. 

“Two fireplaces,” Hongjoong promised. 

They leaned too heavily on each other until they started rearranging, laying on the floor with their bodies still pressed within their cocoon of blankets. Hongjoong’s head rested on his chest. 

“What about you?” Hongjoong asked, tilted his head to look at Seonghwa’s face. “Where would you be if you weren’t here?” 

Seonghwa didn’t hesitate. “With you.” 

Hongjoong expression stuttered, like missing a step in the dark, and he blinked in shock. “I mean… like where do you want to live?” 

“With you.” That was the only thing Seonghwa had ever wanted. 

Hongjoong stared, mouth working as if he was trying to say something, but nothing was coming out. His expression twisted and smoothed, and Seonghwa was becoming worried he had said the wrong thing, and then Hongjoong dropped his head onto Seonghwa’s chest, shoulder shaking with laughter. 

“You ass,” he said, and Seonghwa knew the way his voice shook, unsteady and watery. When he looked up, his eyes were swimming with tears that hadn’t fallen. “You aboslute  _ asshole _ , how fucking dare you-” 

“What did I do?” Seonghwa asked, staring in shock as Hongjoong scrubbed at his eyes. 

“You make me fucking  _ feel _ things, and I don’t know what the fuck to do, I just fucking cry because I love you so  _ fucking much- _ ” 

Hongjoong choked off, as if he hadn’t intended to say quite so much, head pressing harder against Seonghwa, shoulder still shaking. 

“Fucking hell,” He breathed, and then suddenly, Hongjoong’s lips were on his. 

There was an initial push that had Seonghwa laying flat on the floor as Hongjoong lay over him, but as soon as they settled, Hongjoong’s shoulders unbunched, falling loosely as he stopped pushing and just kissed Seonghwa slowly. 

Seonghwa’s hands were caught in the blankets as they landed on his hips, holding him gently as Hongjoong closed his eyes, warm and solid against him. 

It felt like laying on cloud. As if nothing on this earth could touch them. Hongjoong felt like nothing against him, but like an anchor, making sure they didn’t drift too far. Seonghwa had been truthful before. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had wanted this. But it had been something in the back of his mind for… 

Well, years, at this point. 

How could he not? 

How could he not look at brilliant, glowing Hongjoong and his stupid smile that was rarer and more precious than diamonds? How could he not lean on him when he found the first person in the world who listened? How could he not see Hongjoong, day after day, and fall a little deeper? 

How could he be faced with the monumental force that was Hongjoong and think he ever stood a chance?

He never stood a chance.

And God, did he never want to. 

He held Hongjoong gently, terrified of hurting each other more than they already had.

It was slow. With each second, it slowed further, until it was just pressing lips and shifting bodies that warmed each other, and they were breathing around each other, and then there was nothing but each other against each other, and Seonghwa…. 

Seonghwa thrived. Like a sped up cam of a flower blooming, his chest swelled with something unnameable right now. He tried to swallow it down, but it swallowed him whole, and Seonghwa… 

Hongjoong had come to mean so much to him so quickly, and Seonghwa was always terrified by that fact. That, perhaps, Seonghwa was too attached and Hongjoong was… not. 

And he never truly believed it, but Seonghwa was afraid of so much for so long, that it made sense to add Hongjoong to the list of people who would eventually turn away or hurt him. 

He never did. 

Hongjoong tucked his head into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck, breathing slowly. 

“I don’t know what to do, Seonghwa,” he whispered, air tickling the skin there. He kissed it, barely touching his lips. 

Seongwha shivered. “About what?” 

“Everything,” he breathed, lips trailing up to Seonghwa’s jaw and kissing there too. “You, us, everyone else… everything.” 

Seonghwa held Hongjoong’s hips a little tighter as he kissed back down his neck slowly, as if an accent or an afterthought to the struggles he had confessed. “Sometimes you can’t do anything,” he said quietly, and Hongjoong paused for a moment, still pressed to his neck. Seonghwa kissed his temple gently. “Sometimes the hardest part is admitting that you can’t help yet, Hongjoong.” 

It wasn’t Hongjoong’s time yet. One day, Seonghwa would leave, and it was then that he would need Hongjoong. But for now, it wasn’t time. 

Hongjoong sighed quietly, body falling solidly against Seonghwa’s. He was so tiny, he barely felt his weight. “Is that your way of telling me to stop worrying?” 

“For now? Yes.” 

Another sigh, and Hongjoong kissed the curve of his neck. “I never thought about kissing you until you did it first,” Hongjoong confessed. 

Seonghwa chuckled quietly. “What did you think about it?” 

He said it lightly, but Seonghwa had been terrified, staring at Hongjoong who refused to take care of himself, who refused to admit to being over his head, who was falling apart at the seems and still smiling as he dripped frigid water…. 

All because he cared too much. 

And Seonghwa cared  _ so much _ . And he just had to… do something. Something other than stand there and stare and hope that Hongjong would listen to reason. 

He felt Hongjoong smile, small and private. “I think I like it a lot.” 

Seonghwa could have thrown up with relief. 

“What about you?” 

Seonghwa laughed. “I kissed you first.”

“And?” he whispered. “What did you think of it?” 

Hongjoong’s lips were warm where they ran over his pulse. Seonghwa swallowed. “I think it’s something I would happily spend the rest of my life doing.” 

Hongjoong’s breath stuttered. “Seonghwa, you have to stop saying shit like that.” He pressed his forehead to his collarbones. “I’m still trying to take it slow, and you’re ready to settle down.” 

“We’ve already settled down,” Seonghwa said. “We fall asleep in  _ fields _ together, Hongjoong.” He pressed fingers into Hongjoong’s side, who squirmed, kicking at him to make him stop.

“Ass,” he muttered, before taking a patch of skin on Seonghwa’s neck and sucking hard in retaliation. 

And was it supposed to be punishment? Yes. But the nerves along Seonghwa’s spine lit up and he gasped (not so quietly), hands jumping to Hongjoong’s waist tightly as the warmth disappeared, leaving the slightly damp area freezing. 

Hongjoong’s eyes appeared, mischievous and bright. “Seonghwa…” 

“Sorry,” he said, letting his hands fall away and swallowing his embarrassment. “I just wasn’t expecting-” 

Hongjoong suddenly dropped, mouthing at the same spot and dragging his tongue over it in a ghost of a touch. Seonghwa stiffened, eyes falling closed as his head fell back slightly at the electric sensation. 

It was different. So fucking different from the other times. The others times hadn’t had Hongjoong chuckling into his neck, so fucking genuine that Seonghwa got a bigger high off of the sound than his lips that sucked at the weak spot just below his jaw. 

He held onto Hongjoong for dear life as he moved down his neck, leaving hard sucks that he soothed with his tongue quickly, leaving them cooling in the frozen air. Seonghwa’s eyes were closed as he tried to keep down the stupid noises in the back of his throat. 

Hongjoong pulled away, lips brushing Seonghwa’s ear warmly. “Are you really dumb enough to try and spend the rest of you life with me, Seonghwa?” 

Seonghwa placed a hand in Hongjoong’s hair, using it to tilt his head gently, guiding him so that Seonghwa’s lips brushed his ear instead. “Hongjoong…if you were willing, I’d spend the rest of my life just like this. With you in my arms and nothing to threaten us.” 

He felt Hongjoong swallow, throat bobbing. “It’s a long time,” he warned. “The rest of your life. There’s a lot of time left to it.” 

“Perfect,” Seonghwa said, lips curling at the thought. “If I could go back in time and put you in my life from the beginning, I never would have had a sad day in my life.” 

“I’ve caused you a lot of sad days,” Hongjoong reminded him, even as his hands curled around Seonghwa’s biceps gently. 

“Not like them,” Seonghwa whispered. “Never like them.” 

Even his worst fights, his lowest moments with Hongjoong were nothing compared to the vacuum his parents had created around him. Even those dark moments had been a strength while Seonghwa lay in bed, afraid to even leave his room. 

“If you said you’d let me stay with you the rest of my life, I’d die happy, regardless of how much time I had left.” 

And he meant every fucking word. 

If he was given the chance to see Hongjoong smile each day, see him laugh and shove the others around, see him in some other way than carrying the world on his shoulders… Seonghwa would die so fucking happy. 

“I told you before,” Hongjoong murmured, head resting against Seonghwa’s chest. “I just want everyone to be happy. If this is what makes you happy, I’ll never fucking leave.” 

“What about you?” Seonghwa whispered. 

“I’m always happy when I’m with you,” Hongjoong said hoarsely. “Always. You should know that by now… It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t. I’m sorry.” His voice dropped into silence as he nosed at Seonghwa’s neck. “You make me so fucking happy, I’m terrified I’m going to wake up.” 

Seonghwa’s arms wrapped around Hongjoong, encasing him as Seonghwa rolled, coming up with his face inches above Hongjoong’s that stared up at him with wide eyes. 

God, sometimes Seonghwa thought he was going to die, just staring at Hongjoong. 

The one who had done so fucking much for so fucking long… and who said he loved Seonghwa. 

God, he fucking loved him. 

“Wake up,” Seonghwa told him, noses brushing. “I’ll still be here.” 

Hongjoong’s lips pressed together tightly, eyes filling with shimmering water. “You fucking sap,” he rasped, grabbing Seonghwa by the back of his neck and pulling him down to kiss him. 

It fucking hurt Seonghwa’s chest in the best way as he leaned down, careful to keep himself from crushing Hongjoong, but Hongjoong’s lips were chapped and gentle, and when Seonghwa worked them open carefully, he sighed in contentment, falling loose beneath Seonghwa who tried to just keep breathing as Hongjoong laid gentle hands against his chest, just feeling him there, as if making sure he didn’t pull away while his eyes were closed. 

It could have been hours. Minutes. They only counted the breaths that they stole from each other. Seonghwa’s blood raced and sang as Hongjoong breathed beneath him, staring at him with a million stars in his eyes, as if the sky was reflected in Seonghwa when he stared. 

Hongjoong’s delicate hand touched Seonghwa’s face. 

He said nothing. 

Seonghwa leaned down, kissing his forehead and feeling the warm skin there, not chilled but  _ warm _ . Hongjoong swallowed thickly. 

“Don’t be so fucking soft, Seonghwa,” he teased even as his voice was unsteady. 

Seonghwa wanted to melt into him. “Don’t be so afraid to admit what you want, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong hit his side, even as his head fell back, eyes closing as he breathed out hard. “I want too many things to list, and if I start getting them, I’ll keep wanting more.” 

“I’ll give you them,” Seonghwa promised, pressing gentle kisses down his cheek and to his neck. “List them, Hongjoong, and I swear I’ll give you them one day.” 

Maybe not today. But after so fucking long, Seonghwa was going to spend the rest of his fucking life giving Hongjoong whatever he fucking wanted. He, of all people, deserved it. Deserved everything after giving up and refusing so much for the sake of everyone else. 

Hongjoong made a soft noise where Seonghwa kissed his pulsepoint, apparently worse than Seonghwa at keeping noises to himself. Not that Seonghwa minded. 

“Seonghwa-” 

“Tell me, Hongjoong,” he whispered, eyes closing as he pressed kisses across his collarbone. “I’ll give whatever I can.” 

Hongjoong’s hand squirmed out of the blankets, lacing his fingers through Seonghwa’s that were by his side, clenching them hard as he closed his eyes tightly. “I want you to be happy,” he breathed. 

“Done,” Seonghwa whispered, sucking warm bruises against his skin, nerves alight.

“I-I want you to stay with us.” His breathing was irregular, throat jumping under Seonghwa’s lips. 

“One day,” he promised. “Soon, Hongjoong.” 

“I want you t-to be with me.” 

“Done,” he swore as Hongjoong’s hand shook in his. 

“I want you to talk with me, Seonghwa,” he begged. “Never hide something from me again.” 

“Never,” He promised, voice throat closing slightly. 

“I want to take the others and leave this place.” 

“As soon as I leave,” he whispered. “As soon as I leave, we’ll run, I swear.” 

“I want-” He cut himself off, gasping when Seonghwa bit the skin lightly. “I want us to keep this.” His hand squeezed Seonghwa’s. “I never- never want to lose this.” 

“We can’t lose what we’ve always had,” Seonghwa murmured. “We’ll keep this, I promise.” 

“Kiss me,” Hongjoong whispered, eyes shut tight. “Please, Seonghwa-” 

And if it was something that Seonghwa could give him now, who was he to break his promise? 

Hongjoong wound fingers in his hair and held him, breaths stuttering as Seonghwa kissed him, deep and dragging as if they had been placed in molasses. 

Seonghwa was so fucking happy. 

He loved him so fucking much. 

He couldn’t even start trying to place everything into words, but it was just… 

Hongjoong. That was all Seonghwa had ever wanted. Just Hongjoong. 

And with said boy trembling in his arms, both of them holding each other as something precious and fragile as they were, Seonghwa should have known… 

He should have known to never think it could last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliff hanger!!   
> Sorry about that, but I will try and have the last chapter out as soon as possible, I promise ㅠㅠㅠ   
> Thank you for being patient and thank you for reading!   
> Let me know what you thought!!   
> -SS


	6. You Are My Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait ㅠㅠㅠ BUT I FINISHED!! I’ve been trying to post all day, but it’s been weird with WiFi *sigh*   
> BUT it’s the final chapter! I almost split it up, but I sort of like how this one works out. Provided it doesn’t seem rushed ㅠㅠ Let me know what you think, and thank you to everyone who’s stuck with me through this!   
> Hopefully it’s a good enough ending- I had fun with it!   
> Enjoy, and let me know what you thought!  
> -SS

Seonghwa walked home on cloud nine. 

He felt absolutely nothing of the frigid temperature threatening his fingers and nose, only a mind-numbing glee that seemed to have taken the place of blood in his veins. 

Even as ice clung to his sleeves, the warmth from Hongjoong’s body continued to press around him, like a heated blanket pulsing a warmth into his core. 

The snow fell quicker around him, making him squint but it didn’t matter. 

The cold didn’t matter. 

He had something clenched tightly in his grasp that he hadn’t had in so fucking long. 

Something that filled his chest like a balloon that was threatening to pop. Something that felt like laying beside Hongjoong and surviving everything, against all odds. 

Not  _ forgetting  _ it. Never forgetting. But surviving. Getting through in one piece and coming out the other end. Stronger. Better. 

Together. 

It felt like finally, finally gaining solid footing after running through shifting gravel for so long, just desperate for a smoother patch. Like grabbing onto Hongjoong’s hand and both of them making it to the top where they stood, clinging together and trying not to fall off. 

It felt indescribable. 

Like dropping down a rollercoaster, his stomach flipping and turning, the wind blinding him and adrenaline shooting through him like a drug passed from Hongjoong’s lips to his. 

It was probably well passed 1AM but Seonghwa felt as if he had downed six espresso shots, practically thrumming with energy and warmth that acted like a pulse. Even the sight of his dark house in the distance couldn’t quiet the blood screaming its way through his veins. 

He climbed the steps- careful not to slip or make them creak, eyes on the dark windows of the house. Sneaking in was never as hard as sneaking out. He grabbed the door handle. 

He would give everything to Hongjoong one day. Even if it took scrimping and saving and clawing along from one disaster to the next… he was going to give him everything. 

He would find another place to settle, get a job and help out until they could afford a place together, and he would help Hongjoong reach each of those dreams. Along with any new ones that popped up along the way. 

And God, the way hope bloomed in his chest almost made him choke, but it felt so fucking good after so fucking long of hiding away, afraid to even think about better things. 

He felt like he could explode at any moment. 

He opened the door, as he always did, a few inches, pausing to let the hinges rest so they wouldn’t creak, before slipping in and pushing it closed silently. 

_ He loved him _ . 

The hallway was dark as he carefully heard the latch click into place as he locked the door, sighing in stupid love-sick fashion as he turned-

The lights flicked on. 

Seonghwa froze. 

There was a terrifying, sickening moment when he stood completely still, too afraid to look around, too afraid to breathe. 

_ Just run _ , his survival voice breathed. 

His blood stopped pumping, as if too afraid of drawing attention to itself. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

His father’s voice was terrifyingly calm, smooth and quiet as if he were asking out of concern. A shiver jolted through his spine. 

Seonghwa turned slowly, throat dry as sand and blood colder than any snow could make it. 

_ Run _ . 

His father stood in the doorway of the hallway, expression a quiet, cold fury. 

Seonghwa didn’t even breathe, like a field mouse desperately trying to hide from a hawk that had already long since caught sight of it. 

God, no. Please. 

“Father-“

“ _ This  _ is what you’ve been doing?” He demanded, voice a dull anger that was throbbing beneath his skin. Seonghwa swallowed. “Sneaking out at all hours of the night?  _ Defying  _ and fighting me every turn just to fulfill your stupid rebellions-“

“It’s not-“

His father moved forward and Seonghwa moved back on instinct, his back hitting the door as he stared helplessly. He braced himself, as if it would help. 

His heart choked him, nestled painfully in his throat as his father grabbed him by the arm, hauling him forward. 

He had only been caught sneaking out a couple of times and none of them had ever ended well. Even if his father only thought he was wandering the house during the night- never what his intentions were. Never knew what his plans were when he caught Seonghwa standing in the hallway, desperately trying to convince him he had just needed a drink of water in full clothing and a coat. 

But he had never been caught sneaking back in. 

Never handed his father such solid, damning evidence. 

“Sneaking out,” his father growled, too close to Seonghwa, squeezing his arm painfully. “Just to find some midnight whore?”

Seonghwa’s eyes opened automatically in confusion, and then his father’s other hand was pulling away the collar of his coat, fingers pressing roughly against sensitive skin on his neck. 

Seonghwa cried out quietly in the back of his throat, trying to keep his eyes on his father whose eyes were slowly building a smouldering fire as he stared at Seonghwa’s neck. 

The confusion cleared as Seonghwa remembered warm lips laughing against his neck, sucking warm bruises into his skin. 

The act that had sparked such a warmth in his stomach suddenly iced over painfully as his heart seemed to stop beating. 

His head spun with how quickly the blood drained from his face. 

“ _ Why _ ?” His father hissed, dragging Seonghwa away to glare at him, teeth grinding together. 

Seonghwa stared up at him, eyes wide and terrified. This was bad. 

“I-“ His voice caught, too many names and excuses clogging his throat. 

_ Help _ , his mind whispered. Begged. 

There was no one to help here. 

“I- I didn’t-“

“Who is she?” His father demanded, grip tightened to the point Seonghwa started tugging on his hand to free his arm, skin burning under the pressure of his fingers. 

“S-Stop, I-“ 

“Tell me,” he growled, voice low and quiet like the beginning tremors to an earthquake about to tear through the land. “Who has you fighting me so hard? Who’s dragging you out at three in the morning? Are you just sneaking into  _ clubs _ ? Trying to find some cheap slut who’ll make you forget all about home?” 

Hongjoong laughed, shoving Seonghwa away. 

Hongjoong smiled, looping his arms through Seonghwa’s as they walked the pier, the sun too bright but dimmed by the other’s grin. 

“What whore is worth it?”

Hongjoong cried, staring at his meager pile of money and wondering where the hell he was going to get enough food to feed everyone. 

Hongjoong embraced him, promising for the countless time that things were gonna get better, they would be better, they just had to hold on a little longer. 

Hongjoong kissed him, renewing promise after promise that he would wait, that one day they would run, that one day he would be free. 

Seonghwa tore his arm away. 

Whether it was surprise from his father or a sudden adrenaline surge, he jerked free as his father’s eyes darkened.

Seonghwa tried to stand his ground, a small burst of anger momentarily shoving down the fear. 

_ Don’t be afraid _ , he begged himself.  _ He’ll only enjoy it more if he thinks he’s got you _ . 

His lifted his chin and tried to hide the way his hands shook. 

“ _ Shut up _ ,” he said, voice helplessly weak. “You don’t get a say in what I do with my life. You lost that right  _ years  _ ago.” 

So many years… of so much anger… only broken apart by the moments he ran to anywhere else but here. 

Only made bearable by one fucking person who clung to Seonghwa despite the bumps they kept hitting. 

His father took a step forward, glaring like a flame against Seonghwa’s skin. “Speak to me that way again, and you’ll have an entirely issue on your hands tonight,” he threatened, body tense. 

Seonghwa swallowed down his fear. It wouldn’t help him tonight. 

“You don’t know a damn thing. About  _ anything _ .” His nails dug into his skin. 

“I know your night is about to become a lot worse.” The threat was dark. Explicit in ways it usually wasn’t. 

Hongjoong sitting beside him in the grass, eyes wistful in a rare display of selfishness as he let himself imagine something better. 

Hongjoong’s eyes alight as he and Seonghwa talked about anything and nothing. 

Hongjoong small and shivering as Seonghwa wrapped a coat around his shaking frame, working himself beyond his limits all for a family he had carefully clung together. 

Hongjoong staring at Seonghwa with heartbroken eyes, pitying Seonghwa, despite being the one who had a roof over his head and food to eat. 

Hongjoong holding onto Seonghwa while he meticulously held back tears he couldn’t allow to fall because if he started it would never stop. 

Hongjoong begging Seonghwa to stay, to stop going back, to just stay with them- with  _ him-  _ to just be  _ happy- _

His father took another step. 

“All because you decided it was worth it to sneak around. All because you decided it was worth it to fuck some  _ whore- _ “

“It isn’t like that!” Seonghwa snapped, taking an aggressive step forward, anger sparking where defensiveness bloomed. “It’s nothing like that!”

That was not Hongjoong. 

“You don’t understand a goddamn thing!”

Hongjoong was his everything. 

“He isn’t some-“

“He?” 

The world. 

Stood. 

Still. 

Seonghwa’s entire body flooded with ice. 

_ Run _ .  _ Please. Just run _ . 

His father’s fists curled. His eyes were... 

They were... 

“Did I hear that correctly?” He whispered, face gaining a red tinge. He took one very. Slow. Step. 

Seonghwa took one back, something dark and sharp twisting in his heart. 

Something worse than fear. 

“ _ He _ ,” his father repeated. “He was worth it, was he?” 

Something much worse than fear. 

Inevitability. Acceptance. Realization. 

His father took another step forward. Seonghwa was back against the door, staring with terrified eyes that couldn’t look away. Helpless as a lame animal, caught with a bloodied leg in a trap as a knife slowly approached. 

“Is he still going to be worth it in the end?” He asked lowly, voice vibrating Seonghwa’s bones. 

Seonghwa opened his mouth, nothing able to come out. His eyes stung.

Hongjoong wrapping a blanket around them both, fussing over Seonghwa despite his own chill. 

Hongjoong sitting and waiting in that park for Seonghwa to show up. 

Hongjoong being the first person in Seonghwa’s life who looked at him and smile, as if he were glad to see him. Elated. 

Hongjoong kissing him gently, as if Seonghwa was something to be treasured and cared for. 

Hongjoong promising the world to him, despite being robbed of it himself. 

Hongjoong whispering “I love you”s into his skin, as if making up for every bruise and silence his parents had given him. 

Hongjoong’s tears freezing onto his skin- happy and scared and sad alike. 

“He is.” 

His father froze. 

Seonghwa knew he had said the wrong thing. But then again… there was no right thing to say. There never was. 

“What?” He hissed quietly, fists clenched into white knuckles. 

Seonghwa swallowed the thorn in his throat. 

Run. 

“He is worth it.” His voice shook. It was weak. Barely a fucking whisper. 

Just run. 

“He’s worth it because he was the only keeping me going when you decided I’d make a better  _ punching bag  _ than son-“ 

His father’s hand twisted a fistful of his hair, dragging him forward. 

Why didn’t you  _ run _ ?

“We’ll see how worth it you think that fag is.” 

Seonghwa hit the ground hard, breathing harshly through his nose when his aching and bruised arms hit. 

Why didn’t you leave before? 

He heard his father’s footsteps approach quickly, giving him no time to move. 

Why didn’t you just  _ listen _ ? 

A foot landed in his ribs. 

Why didn’t you go with him when you had the chance? 

~~~~~~

Hongjoong jerked awake to a hand landing in his stomach. 

He shot up, half-asleep, but already reaching for whichever of the others had touched him. 

He had been sleeping hard. 

He found the vaguest shape of Yeosang sitting up beside him, the moonlight giving the barest view of the tight, dark lines of his face staring off, as if seeing something Hongjoong wasn’t. His face was pale. 

“Something’s wrong,” the younger whispered, hand squeezing Hongjoong’s leg, a slight tremor to it. 

For a moment, Hongjoong was about to ask what dream Yeosang had just woken up from, but then he heard the sound of boxes being run into downstairs. 

He frowned, rubbing away sleep and rising up onto his knees, counting lumps in the darkness. All accounted for. 

Hongjoong rose to his feet, shivering at the blast of cold air outside the safety of his blanket. “Wait here,” he whispered, bare feet stepping onto freezing metal as he exited the room slowly. 

It wasn’t common for people to root around their warehouse but it wasn’t unheard of. 

He stepped out onto the catwalk and heard nothing down in the lower area. The wind blew through eerily. He was silent, eyes scanning in the darkness, fully awake now. 

“Hello?” He called, cautious, moving towards the stairs. 

The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs forced him back a defensive step, but a quiet breath made him pause. 

“Hongjoong…” 

“Seonghwa?” He breathed. What was he doing here at this hour? Suddenly, a shape was rushing over the top of the steps, the sound of something hitting the railing heavily ringing throughout the warehouse. 

There was a sound that sounded like a cross between a breath and a sob. 

“H-Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said quietly, moving around the offending rail. 

Hongjoong moved forward and Seonghwa’s body collided with his, as if reaching the ending after a long sprint. His head hit Hongjoong’s chest, and he tried to catch him firmly, but Hongjoong could only hold onto his arms, staring, stunned in the dark. 

Seonghwa’s entire body shook so violently, Hongjoong wondered how he was still standing, his face pressing weakly to Hongjoong’s chest, fingers grasping his biceps weakly. 

“ _ I want to leave _ .” 

It was a whisper between the two of them, shaking and weakened, like a cloth that was already tearing, threading apart at the seams. 

“Please,” Seonghwa whispered, and it was with striking horror that Hongjoong realized that he was crying, wetness seeping through his shirt rapidly and freezing. 

“Seonghwa…” he murmured, staring at the top of his head in the dark. 

“Please, Hongjoong,” he begged, voice haggard and raw. “I want to leave, I want to get out-“ His voice broke, but he didn’t even seem to notice, trying to squeeze Hongjoong’s arm with shaking fingers. “You said we could leave,” he said in a rush. “You said we could just leave, there’s nothing  _ here  _ for us, Hongjoong,  _ please,  _ I want to leave, I never want to fucking look back, just  _ please- _ “

Something in Seonghwa broke. 

He just cried. Face pressed and hands squeezing and breathing coming in rapid, short pants that made Hongjoong rub his back in fear. 

Terror slowly spread to his limbs, numbing them into nonexistence. This… this had never happened before. 

“Seonghwa... what happened?” What made him react like this? What could possibly-

Seonghwa shook his head sharply. “Please,” he whispered, pleaded, begged. “You said we could leave.”

Hongjoong’s chest punched in. 

“I want to leave. Please, Hongjoong, just fucking take us away from this  _ awful fucking place _ , you promised, you  _ promised  _ we would  _ leave- _ “

Hongjoong hushed him quickly, drawing him closer, hand coming to brush through his hair trying to calm him enough to comfort him through whatever had scared him. 

“Seonghwa-“

His hand brushed over a knot on the back of Seonghwa’s head. 

The older hissed, head jerking slightly, but he never moved far from pressing into Hongjoong. 

He took a short breath. “Please.” The desperation had vanished into weak words barely held together. “Please just take me away.” 

Hongjoong stared for only three more seconds, the numbness in his limbs heavy. 

“ _ Yeosang _ !”

Seonghwa jumped in his arms but Hongjoong held him carefully. 

The other appeared in the doorway like a shadow, peering out. 

“Wake the others,” Hongjoong ordered, heart racing. “Grab whatever you can.” He rubbed a hand up Seonghwa’s back. “We’re leaving.”

“How far?” Was all the other asked, expression tight and restrained.

“As far as fucking possible.” 

Yeosang inclined his head firmly. “Give us twenty minutes. You take care of Seonghwa.” 

He disappeared, and Hongjoong turned back to the shaking man in his arms. 

“Seonghwa,” he breathed, brushing a careful hand through his hair. “What happened?” 

He clung to Hongjoong. “Please just take us away,” he whispered, lips cold. 

Hongjoong’s resolve slammed into place. 

_ Seonghwa wanted to leave.  _

“Okay,” he whispered, pressing gentle lips to the top of his hair, something swirling in his chest. “We’re leaving. Give me a few minutes, Seonghwa and you will never have to see this place again.” 

Holy shit, it was actually happening. After so many fucking years, Seonghwa wanted to leave, he was begging to leave, he was  _ scared-  _

A breath left Seonghwa, who snagged heavier against Hongjoong, hands trembling worse than his breaths. 

“I love you,” Seonghwa breathed, voice hard and firm, as if Hongjoong had challenged the claim. “I love you  _ so much _ , Hongjoong. Every moment was worth it, I swear. Everything- all of it was worth it because of you.” 

Hongjoong was scared. But for the sake of... whatever happened to Seonghwa, he shoved it aside. He just… he just needed to get Seonghwa away. That was his first priority. If Seonghwa wanted to leave this badly, Hongjoong was going to get him the fuck out. 

“What…” He swallowed. “What happened?”

Seonghwa shook his head quickly, fists clenching in Hongjoong’s shirt. 

Hongjoong swallowed. “Are you at least okay?” 

The silence from Seongha almost stopped Hongjoong’s heart, but he nodded slowly. “I will be. I just… want to leave.” 

What the hell  _ happened  _ to him? 

Hongjoong hadn’t even heard the movement behind them until footsteps exited the room. 

“Hongjoong.” 

He turned. A crowd of boys, holding blankets and a couple of backpacks stood, faces grim and heavy, but prepared. Hair sleep tousled, clothes rumpled, but… ready to leave. 

Hongjoong swallowed, still holding Seonghwa. “I’m not going to force anyone to come-“

“Cut the bullshit,” Wooyoung scoffed, hand clenched tightly in Yeosang’s that wasn’t holding his board. “Let’s get the fuck out of this shithole, shall we?” 

Hongjoong heart swelled. All of these boys- some who had relatives here, a couple of friends, jobs... all of it dropped with a single word at 3 AM.

Just for one of them. 

Fuck, if he didn’t love each of them. 

“Everyone ready?” He asked, voice a little thick. 

Jongho scrubbed sleep from his eyes. “As ready as we can be.” 

Hongjoong dropped concerned eyes to Seonghwa who hadn’t moved. “Seonghwa?” 

“Let’s leave,” he breathed. “I want to leave, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong ran a gentle hand along his back. “We’re leaving, Seonghwa,” he promised, anything to comfort him. “Let’s go.” 

It took a second for Seonghwa to straighten, still clinging onto Hongjoong, and when Hongjoong tried to guide Seonghwa towards the stairs, Seonghwa leaned on him so heavily, Hongjoong almost tipped. The heavy limp of Seonghwa’s foot made a loud bang against the cat walks and his knee buckled almost immediately. 

Hongjoong half-caught him as Seonghwa saved his footing, hand slapping against the railing to catch himself. 

“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong’s stomach dropped and tore itself apart as his eyes scanned in the darkness, Seonghwa breathing heavily. Things were wrong. They were so wrong right now, and Hongjoong didn’t know what to  _ do _ . “Seonghwa, what-“

“I want to l-leave.” 

He was crying. Words shaken with tears that were crawling down his face, thickening his voice and weakening his words. 

“Please, Hongjoong, I’ll tell you everything, just-“ His hands shook in Hongjoong’s so violently. “I love you- please, let’s just fucking  _ leave- _ “

“Okay,” he said quickly, quietly. “Okay, Seonghwa, were gonna get us out of here, okay? We’re getting out, I swear.” He turned. “Yunho, can you carry him?” 

“I-“ Seonghwa breathed heavily. “I can’t- my ribs-“

Hongjoong head spun with fear. 

“Okay,” he breathed, lightheaded with adrenaline. “Can you put your arm around me?” 

It was slow moving, but Hongjoong managed to take some of his weight, allowing them a slow trek down the stairs that had Seonghwa crying out in tiny bursts of pain that Hongjoong was desperate to ask about. 

Later, he told himself. 

For now, get him the  _ hell  _ out of here. 

They reached the downstairs, the other following behind them, and even with snow falling heavily and ice painting the ground. 

“Where are we heading, hyung?” Jongho asked, following diligently. 

“Bus station,” he said, glancing back. “Yeosang, start counting how much money was in my bag.” 

“Enough for 8 bus tickets,” Yeosang assured him. 

Hongjoong stared at the other who shrugged. “We’re not likely to make it very far very fast on our own feet, are we?” 

“Dramatic psychic,” Hongjoong muttered. “Okay, head to the nearest bus station.” 

They moved out into the moonlight, but Hongjoong didn’t look st Seonghwa, simply kept muttering to him under his breath. 

“We’re getting there,” he promised. “We’re getting out, Seonghwa, just a few more minutes.” 

The bus station wasn’t far. But with Seonghwa limping heavily against Hongjoong, it was slower going. The snow and ice slowed them further, but everyone remained silent about it. It almost felt like a funeral march. 

They exited the warehouse district and entered into the lamp lit areas of the city. 

It was all happening so fucking fast. 

Seonghwa hissed as his foot caught a curb, jarring them, and Hongjoong looked over quickly, catching his front and only eliciting more pained hisses. 

Seonghwa’s face was thrown into stark lighting and Hongjoong froze. 

“Seonghwa...” 

One eye was swollen shut, his lip and nose covered in dried blood. He clutched one hand to his side, fingers curled into claws at whatever pain wracked him. He didn’t place his left leg on the ground. 

It had never... 

Never been this bad. 

He saw Yeosang slip a white hand into Wooyoung’s, squeezing tightly enough to seem painful, his blank face a hard mask that was cracked. 

“Seonghwa-“

Seonghwa didn’t look at him. “Hongjoong, please...” he winced as his split lip moved. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” 

Some of the blood was streaked with tears. 

Hongjoong felt the urge to stumble away. To throw himself into the snow and empty the contents of his stomach because ...

He had seen Seonghwa just a few hours ago. 

Just a blink of an eye since they were curled up and laughing between kisses at nothing but themselves. 

And now...

Now Hongjoong could barely recognize him through the bruises. 

What had his father done? 

“Hongjoong.” 

He turned, seeing Wooyoung staring at him with eyes hard as flint, squeezing the life out of Yeosang’s hand. 

“Let’s go. We can take care of everything else later.” His voice was stiff, as if carefully keeping some emotion back. 

Hongjoong didn’t want to go. He wanted to demand what had happened.

He wanted to run to Seonghwa’s house and return every bruise and cut tenfold. 

He wanted to hurt and bruise and tear apart the man who did this to someone-

“ _ Hongjoong _ .” 

He slammed back to the reality of the situation. 

Seonghwa was leaning on him. Bleeding and terrified after his father had crossed so many lines he had never touched before. 

Seonghwa wanted to leave. 

He wanted to  _ finally  _ leave after Hongjoong had begged for years and here Hongjoong was,  _ hesitating _ . 

He swallowed down everything. 

“Come on,” he whispered quietly into Seonghwa’s ear, a stone dropping into his stomach. “We’re getting the hell out of here.” 

The walk was slow. Each new street lamp they passed threw Seonghwa’s face into stark contrast and made his bruises twist into uglier colors. Hongjoong focused on helping him keep his footing and making sure the others were okay. 

This was really happening. 

They were leaving. 

Seonghwa was leaving. 

They were getting out. Away. Free. 

Seonghwa was going to be free. 

But, God, at what cost? 

Seonghwa leaned heavily on him, breath coming in pained wheezes that caught in his throat. 

Just get him out. Take care of the rest later, just make good on the one fucking promise you keep making and get him the  _ fuck  _ out of here. 

They came upon a brightly lit station, and they must have looked a fucking sight. Eight raggedy looking teenagers coming in the middle of the night into the well respected station. One of them… beaten to hell and back. Hongjoong winced. 

It was empty save for another homeless looking lady curled up and sleeping in the corner, and a handful of others curled up on benches while waiting for their early morning rides. 

Hongjoong found the nearest bench, slowly easing Seonghwa onto it. He clenched his eyes shut, teeth gritted as he leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. God, why did he seem so pale?

Hongjoong could see in the fluorescent lighting of the station, a mural of bruises across Seonghwa’s hands and wrists.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed as Seonghwa continued to press against his side in pain. He turned, taking the backpack from Yeosang quickly. “See if we have anything to help clean him up with,” he ordered, grabbing the small metal, rusting lunchbox. “I’ll be right back.” 

Jongho tailed him, keeping a half step behind him as Hongjoong approached a bored looking old man in the ticket booth. He gestured for Jongho to hang back, stepping up with straight shoulders. 

“How far does the farthest bus go?” Hongjoong asked, voice hard and hurried. “Whichever leaves soonest.” 

The man stared through the window at him, eyes trailing up and down him. “Get lost, kid,” he said, voice crackling through the speaker. “Go run away from home somewhere else.” 

Hongjoong grit his teeth, holding up his little box. “We’re buying tickets,” he said, voice hard. He heard Seonghwa hiss in pain in the distance. “ _ How far  _ does the farthest bus go?” He demanded. 

“Kid, I promise that whatever your parents did is-“

Hongjoong slammed the box down, a burst of anger and desperation and fear making his heart squeeze. The man jumped. “We  _ need  _ to buy fucking tickets to a bus,” he snapped. “Tell me which of these buses will take us the farthest or I  _ swear to God  _ I’ll call whoever is supposed to be over you!” 

It was a weak fucking threat. Barely even one worth noting. But Hongjoong was scared. He was fucking terrified and all that was standing between him and getting Seonghwa the fuck out of here was this  _ stupid man  _ who didn’t fucking understand. Seonghwa was sitting less than fifteen feet away, bruised and bleeding, and this  _ man  _ was trying to stop Hongjoong from getting him the  _ fuck out _ . 

The man looked at him in surprise, glancing at Jongho as if checking if he had heard the same thing. 

Jongho glared, looking prepared to step forward. 

The man sighed, shaking his head, as if these kids weren’t worth it. “The 127 will take you out to the farthest stop before the county. It’s the middle of nowhere and the only ones who take it are the locals who came here for some sort of business or travels. It leaves within the hour.” 

Hongjoong flipped open his box. “Perfect,” he said coldly. “Eight tickets, please.” His hands shook as he started gathering bills. 

The man frowned at the two of them, leaning to see down the hall. 

“Eight tickets,” Hongjoong repeated coldly, chest uncomfortably tight. 

The man looked slightly uncomfortable, but sighed. “Eight ticks for the 127,” he said, tapping something in his screen. 

Hongjoong was handed eight little slips of paper and gave up everything but 20 of the rumpled dollars he had stashed away. 

20 dollars and whatever was in their bags. That was all they had left now. 

Just that and each other. 

He walked over swiftly, finding Yunho sitting beside Seonghwa and dabbing at his bleeding lip with a damp rag. The blood had been cleared from his face, leaving only bruises and swelling to distort his face. Everyone was avoiding looking at him- whether to avoid making him uncomfortable or just because they couldn’t bear to see it, he didn’t know. 

Hongjoong swallowed and started passing out the tickets. “Let’s go wait by the platform,” he said. “Are we ready?” 

He glanced at Yunho who was drawing the little rag away. “As we can be.” 

Yunho and he helped Seonghwa to his feet, murmuring apologies as he hissed and winced, clutching his side. 

He leaned back onto Hongjoong, who wrapped a gentle hand around his waist. 

“I love you,” he said again, breathed into Hongjoong’s ear quietly. Hongjoong didn’t know why Seonghwa kept saying it, whether it was delirium or some sort of desperation. But it was beginning to worry him. 

Hongjoong glance over and found his eyes closed. “You’re starting to scare me a little, Seonghwa,” he whispered. “But I know,” he assured him, fingers curling into his side. “I love you, too.”

Seonghwa’s face pressed weakly to his shoulder, and Hongjoong buried his nose in his nose carefully, just resting there. “I know.” He swallowed, throat crackling. “I always knew. I never doubted you, Hongjoong. Never.” 

Hongjoong was getting scare again. “I never doubted you either.” 

Seonghwa said nothing else, and Hongjoong coaxed him forward a few more steps, limping across the platform. 

They stood in solemn silence on the edge, waiting. Hongjoong and Yunho held basically all of Seonghwa’s weight as he struggled to keep his head up, until Hongjoong just pulled it carefully to rest against his shoulder. Seonghwa finally stopped squirming so much. 

Hongjoong gazed out at the edge of the horizon that began to tinge the barest shade of light. God, was it already morning?

“Hyung.” 

He glanced over at Wooyoung who was still crushing Yeosang’s hand (which was crushing right back). 

“What are we gonna do?” 

Right now? Today? Long term? 

Hongjoong had never known what they were going to do. He only knew that it had worked out thus far with each other. 

“We’re gonna get on this bus and take it as far as it goes,” he said quietly, shifting to take more of Seonghwa’s weight. “And then we’ll figure out what’s next after we’re far, far away from this hellhole.”

Wooyoung frowned, but nodded, turning away without a single complaint, speaking quietly to Yeosang about something the rest of them weren’t meant to hear. 

Silence fell as they waited. Only broken by Seonghwa shifting and his breath catching in pain. 

Hongjoong kissed the side of his temple carefully. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into the tender skin. Even he couldn’t list all the things it was whispered for. 

“Don’t be,” Seonghwa almost begged, short on breath. “It was worth it, Hongjoong. Everything- from the very  _ beginning-  _ it was always worth it. You were worth it.” 

Hongjoong kissed his head again, lips shaking and eyes stinging. Just get him out. 

“Just hold on a little longer,” he whispered. “Just a little longer.” 

Silence passed and made minutes into eternities that Seonghwa leaned heavier and heavier against Hongjoong. 

When the sound of an engine sounded moments later, it was like a punch to the gut and a kick to the ribs. 

He looped his arm back around Seonghwa who jerked a little, as if he had been falling asleep. 

“It’s time.”

They were leaving. 

They were free 

Seonghwa was free. Everyone followed. 

The bus pulled in. They stepped on, Yeosang helping Seonghwa with the steps as Hongjoong balanced him. 

The driver gave them a worse look than the ticket man, but they made it on, Hongjoong immediately turning to count them all to ensure everyone got on. 

Only two other elderly women got on with them, a couple of minutes after them. The eight of them moved to the far back, looking at the seats that would sit two to a row. 

Yunho helped Hongjoong ease Seonghwa into one by the window, the older sitting beside him as the other divided up to take the other rows, Yeosang and Wooyoung taking one across Hongjoong. Hongjoong half-stood to direct and ensure everyone had everything and were properly seated. Seonghwa leaned with his eyes closed against the seat. 

The rumble of the bus was quiet. The two women sat in front. They occupied the back with quiet murmurs and whispers for what would happen. None of the whispers were scared, though. Never scared. Not of something as trivial as moving on. Just curious. 

Hongjoong felt like he had entered a bubble, Seonghwa leaning on his shoulder after he finally settled in, breathing quietly. 

Hongjoong didn’t breathe until the bus began to roll away, taking them with it. 

The station flew out of sight. And then city building gave way to highway that was still dim with twilight. 

And then everything left him at once. 

There was no turning back. They had no money and only each other to survive their next destination. He took a deep breath to keep calm about it, closing his eyes and centering himself. One thing he had always been good at was not losing himself to panic (most of the time). 

“Are you scared?” 

Hongjoong jumped a little, but placed a hand gingerly over Seonghwa’s bruised one, too afraid to squeeze it comfortingly. “A little,” he confessed because it was  _ Seonghwa _ . “But not really.” He swallowed as Seonghwa turned into his shoulder further. He stared out the window that rushed by with darkness. “We’ve made it through with worse.” And they had. Seonghwa was proof that they had made it through the absolute worst that life could throw at them. 

Seonghwa hummed quietly, the noise catching in his throat, making him wince and flex the hand that Hongjoong held. “I’m sorry, Hongjoong,” he whispered into his shoulder, eyes shut tightly. “I’m so  _ fucking sorry _ , I should have left when you-“ 

“Shut up.” It came out sharp. Hard. Not as gentle as Hongjoong would have hoped, but it seemed fitting. Hongjoong’s hand shook a little. “Guilt yourself later. For now, we fucking made it, Seonghwa. You’re never going back to that fucking house again.” 

He was never going back. 

Once more, Hongjoong could not find relief in his heart. It was lighter, but there was no peace there. Not until they were safely settled. Not until Seonghwa’s bruises had healed and there were no traces of that house left anywhere around him. 

There was a long silence, and Hongjoong squeezed Seonghwa’s hand carefully to reinforce the statement. 

“He found out about us…” 

The statement itself was enough to make Hongjoong’s blood go cold quick enough to make his head spin. His muscles seized, as if preparing for the fight Seonghwa had already fought. 

Part of him wanted to feel guilt. Guilt for being the thing that pushed his father over the edge. Guilt at being Seonghwa’s secret that he was forced to hide, that ultimately lead to it being released. Guilt at, yet again, being unable to just fucking do something. Guilt at sitting here, free and unharmed, as Seonghwa bore the marks of their proximity. 

But no. He did not do this to Seonghwa.  _ He  _ was not the monster who should feel guilt. He had no right to feel guilt for something like this. 

“He what?” Hongjoong wanted to believe that he had misheard. 

Seonghwa’s voice shook, but his face was dry. “He found out, I-I let it slip on accident.” He swallowed. “He caught me sneaking back in,” he whispered harshly. “And he s-saw the bruises on my neck and he was talking about whatever whore I was visiting, and I- I  _ tried  _ to stand up to him, Hongjoong, but I said… I said  _ ‘he’  _ and he just… just...” 

Seonghwa didn’t need to say what he did. 

“I was so fucking s-scared, Hongjoong,” He whispered, face pressing harder to his shoulder, despite the bruises. Hongjoong shifted, worried for his battered body, but when he hugged him as best he could from their positions, Seonghwa only leaned against him heavily as Hongjoong crushed the back of his shirt in his fists. Seonghwa’s breaths shook, and now Hongjoong could feel dampness against his neck as his shoulder shook with quiet cries. 

“I was so f-fucking scared, he just wouldn’t  _ s-stop _ , Hongjoong, and I thought- I thought he was going to- to-” 

Hongjoong hushed him quickly, hand carding desperately gentle through his hair as the other rubbed up and down his spine. He held Seonghwa close, who fell silent, just letting out scared, shaking breaths against Hongjoong who held him for all he was worth. 

He closed his eyes against mental pictures that tried to conjure, but he shoved them away, only focusing on Seonghwa’s heart rabbiting against him. He kept hushing him comfortingly, until his breathing evened out enough that it was no longer so panicked. 

Seonghwa was cold. Hongjoong tilted his head back to see over the seat. “San, pass me an extra jacket.” 

The backpack zipper sounded, and a ratty hoodie was passed over the seat. Hongjoong knew that getting it on Seonghwa would be too much for him, so he laid it across his lap, tucking it in firmly and facing the pockets up for his hands to go in. 

“It’s over,” Hongjoong whispered into his temple, kissing it carefully. “It’s over, Seonghwa. You’re never going to see that house or that man ever again. You’re free, now, Seonghwa. We’re out.” 

Seonghwa nodded slowly against his shoulder, and then harder, as if convincing himself that it was true. His hand found Hongjoong’s again, squeezing it weakly. 

“I’m tired, Hongjoong,” he breathed, pressing his face to the curve of Hongjoong’s neck, breathing deeply. 

“Sleep, then,” he said quietly, patting his hair gently to smooth it out, staring out the dark windows that lit up momentarily with passing lamps. “We’ve got a long drive. Just sleep for now. I’ll wake you if something happens.” 

Seonghwa hummed. 

Silence. 

“I really do love you, Hongjoong.” 

Hongjoong’s heart did the sickening back flip it always did, and he sighed, turning to nose into Seonghwa’s hair gently. “I love you, Seonghwa,” he murmured for the umpteenth time. Not that he minded saying it. “You dumbass.” 

Seonghwa didn’t respond. And only moments later, his breathing evened out to deep and slow. Hongjoong let his shoulders fall slightly as he swallowed thickly. They would be okay. 

Everything had always hinged on the moment Seonghwa decided to leave. He had decided. Or, really, he had been forced into the decision, but, regardless, it had been made and now… 

_ Now _ , they could rebuild.

He rested his cheek against the top of Seonghwa’s hair, closing his eyes for a moment. 

Just for a moment. 

“Hyung.” 

Hongjoong jerked awake, head whipping around and finding Wooyoung with his hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, expression unreadable. 

“We’re here.” 

~~~~~~~~ 

Wooyoung held Yeosang’s hand that trembled inside his tightly. 

The bus rumbled along, and when Wooyoung glanced over., Hongjoong and Seonghwa had both already passed out after their whispers had died down. 

The others huddled with each other. 

Yeosang rested his head against Wooyoung’s shoulder. Wooyoung didn’t like the position because it hid Yeosang’s face, but Wooyoung didn’t need to see it to know what he was feeling. 

“Are you worried about leaving?” Wooyoung whispered. 

Yeosang was silent before sighing, sitting up. His face was that hard mask, but his eyes were shattered through, vulnerable and exposed, but intense. 

“Maybe we had some sort of rhythm in that city,” he murmured tiredly, staring at their hands. “Maybe we knew the ins and outs and maybe it was easy there. But that city... that house is Seonghwa’s orphanage.” Wooyoung winced. Yeosang squeezed his hand, eyes darker. “So I don’t have a single issue with helping him get the hell out.” 

And Wooyoung figured as much. That city… so much had happened in it. They had met each other in it, formed their little family in it… but it was the place that held everything they were running from.

Mingi who was kicked out, Jongho who left, Yunho who worked weird hours just to earn something for them, San who walked down the streets hoping someone would listen when he asked for money or food, Hongjoong… 

Hongjoong who did  _ everything _ . 

Seonghwa, who showed up looking like Wooyoung and Yeosang after breakfast at the orphanage, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Wooyoung didn’t want to look at him. Not because it sparked those memories, but because those scars were for him and Hongjoong alone. 

The same as the permanent scar on Yeosang’s lip from the times it was busted. The same as the scar on Wooyoung’s temple where a rock found its mark. 

Those were theirs. And maybe they could share with the others, but they didn’t. 

Because they weren’t  _ their  _ scars to understand. They didn’t need to. They were stories that Yeosang and Wooyoung knew inside and out, but would never tell the others because it wasn’t for them to understand. 

And those bruises on Seonghwa… those were his and Hongjoong’s. Not theirs. 

He looked at the trees flying by, barely visible in the dawn lighting. “At least it’s easier than the first time we ran away. We didn’t get anything as nice as a bus.” 

Yeosang made the quietest noise of amusement, staring at Wooyoung. “We didn’t have anyone else, either.” 

Wooyoung glanced back at the others who were seated around them, talking quietly or sticking their hands in each other’s jackets. “Yeah,” he murmured. “It is easier with others coming along.” 

Leaving the orphanage, Wooyoung would have never thought such a thing. All he and Yeosang needed were themselves. And maybe that was still true. 

But damned if it wasn’t easier with a family. 

“There probably won’t be a skatepark this far out,” Wooyoung warned, lips quirking up. 

Yeosang hit his arm lightly, eyes narrowed. “I’ll guess I’ll just have to start boarding on your ass.” 

“I thought we moved passed the flat ass jokes,” Wooyoung grit out, knocking their heads together. 

Yeosang shoved his head away roughly, glancing beyond him towards the sleeping duo. His expression softened and his eyes weren’t so hard. “I think it’s for the best,” he said with absolute confidence. “They can start healing out here.” 

They can be free. They can watch their first sunrise, knowing they never have to watch another through the bars of their prisons. 

“Guess it’s time to settle down somewhere else, huh?” Wooyoung asked, lacing their fingers again.

Yeosang shrugged. “It was getting a little boring in that town anyway.” 

Wooyoung smiled quietly. “I’m sure wherever we’re going will be a great adventure. We probably won’t die off too quickly.” Yeosang stared at the two eldest resting against each other. 

“Those are the best ones.” 

~~~~~~

They stepped off the bus into another world

Seonghwa looked a little more coherent, but no less reliant on help to shuffle around. 

Hongjoong had been avoiding thinking about how he made it to the warehouse on his own. 

But the ticker master was right. This place was the middle of nowhere. 

They got off the bus, and Hongjoong almost wanted to ask if this was the right place because they stood on a long dirt road that stretched around corners, stopping him from following it with his eyes. 

Behind them was a massive hill with trees, and before them was a railing and an edge that dropped off who-knew how deep. In other words, their options were left or right. 

The only thing to mark that they hadn’t just been dumped out on the curb was the two elderly ladies who sat at the bus bench that had a little covering over it. 

There was snow everywhere, but at least it wasn’t falling. It seemed like the road had been cleared, leaving dirty slush that Jongho almost slipped on. Hongjoong glanced around, but there were no signs or indicators of where they should go. He swallowed down the worry that tried to climb up, stepping into a certain mode of taking care of the others. 

Hongjoong relegated Yunho and San to ensure that Seonghwa was kept stable as he approached the two elderly ladies who were speaking quietly, glancing at them. 

“Excuse me…” His voice came out much calmer than with the ticket master. They looked fully at him now, eyes peering through the mid-morning light. Hongjoong glanced around. “Do you know where the closest town is?” 

They looked at him, then at the gaggle of boys behind him. “About fifteen miles up this road,” one of them said in a papery voice. “It’s mostly uphill. And pretty hard to find your way if it gets dark.” 

Hongjoong’s heart sank. Seonghwa couldn’t make a journey like that. The snow here was thicker than a blanket without city street petrols to clear it out. It was freezing, even in the light, the high mountains making icy winds blow through. 

“What about that way?” Hongjoong asked, pointing down the opposite stretch of road. 

The other lady hummed. “That’s where we’re heading. The village is about 25 miles away. We’re waiting for a friend of ours to come pick us up. It an easier journey on foot though, than the other one.” 

That distance would take them days, most likely, especially with Seonghwa. So, now, they were in the middle of nowhere, twenty miles from anywhere, and with no choice but to pick a lesser of two evils. 

Hongjoong’s heart sank into cold stone. 

What did he do? 

“What are you boys up to?” One woman asked with narrowed, beady eyes. “I saw you harassing that ticket man. People around here don’t want any hooligans disrupting the peace.” 

“We weren’t  _ harassing  _ him,” Hongjoong said, perhaps sharper than intended when speaking to an elder, but he swallowed down the fury that wanted to break through. “He wasn’t going to sell us our tickets. We needed to leave. He had no right to try and stop us.” 

“And why did you need to leave?” The other questioned, suspicious. “That young man looks like hell. What sort of fights are you getting into?” 

Hongjoong’s fist clenched. “ _ He  _ didn’t do anything. We haven’t  _ done  _ anything, we just wanted to leave and start over-“ 

“And your parents?” The woman asked expectantly. “They just let you run away? You aren’t concerned for worrying them sick?”

“His  _ parents  _ are the reason he’s like that.” 

Hongjoong really hadn’t meant to say it. This was their own business. Seonghwa hadn’t given him the okay to reveal everything to a bunch of old coots, but the anger and frustration of the night was coming to a head and it was  _ scary _ . 

Hongjoong was  _ scared _ . He knew that they could make it, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t just thrown them into a place that would kill them quicker than the city. 

The women blinked in shock, one of them leaning to look over at the group supporting Seonghwa. 

Hongjoong’s fists clenched. But then their eyes softened, lips loosening. 

“Ah,” one of them murmured quietly, glancing at the rest of them. “You’re friends of his?” 

Hongjoong nodded. 

“You’re running with him?” 

He swallowed. “I promised I would.” 

There was a long silence where the ladies only glanced between Hongjoong and the others- eyebrows drawn down and fingers fiddling with their buttons. 

“Well,” one of them finally said, blowing out a white cloud of cold breath. “If you’re desperate enough to run away in the middle of the night with what looks like not much to your names...” 

Hongjoong didn’t breathe. 

They glanced at each other, frowning. “Well... I can’t say it’ll be comfortable, but our friend may have enough room in his van for all of you, if you’re willing to go where he’s going.” 

Hongjoong almost blacked out with relief. 

Getting into a van with three complete strangers was the least of his worries of the past 24 hours. His eyes widened like a fucking child’s, hands clasping together almost in a begging gesture. 

“Are you serious?” He asked, stomach swooping and almost making him feel ill. 

The woman laughed, nudging her friend. “If this is your reaction, it seems like you need this more than we thought.” 

They had no  _ fucking  _ idea. 

The other shook her head. “He’ll take you into town no problem. Can you make your way from there?” 

“Yes!” Hongjoong burst quickly, nodding. “Yes, please, we just need to get somewhere out of this weather. We just need a ride, nothing else!”

They laughed quietly again, as if finding him endearing. “Well, he should be here in a few minutes, provided he’s actually on time for once in his life.” 

The other snorted, elbowing her like it was a private joke. 

“Bring your friend over here,” one said, scooting down the small bench and making enough room for one more small person. “He looks like he’s not gonna last much longer on his feet.” 

Hongjoong turned, Seonghwa supported between Yunho and Yeosang who were keeping him steady, his head resting against Yunho’s arm at a weird angle. His face was too pale. 

“ _ Thank you _ ,” was all Hongjoong could think to say. 

The ladies smiled and he could almost believe they understood how genuine it was. 

Hongjoong walked the short distance to the others, leaning to see Seonghwa’s face. 

“Seonghwa,” he whispered, touching his cheek gently. 

He hummed, lifted his head heavily. “Come sit down,” he coaxed, taking half his weight from Yunho. “They’re gonna give us a ride into town.”

And then what?

Hongjoong shoved the question down as Seonghwa nodded, limping along with Hongjoong’s help. He sat him down (ignoring the pained hiss) and kept a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady as he leaned against the back of the bench, Hongjoong telling him to just try and sleep a little more. Seonghwa didn’t respond, either too tired or already back asleep.

“Gracious,” one of the women whispered to herself, expression pinching. “What did you say to your folks to wind up like that?” It wasn’t accusatory. It was sad. Gentle. 

And Hongjoong didn’t mean to, but his hand slipped into Seonghwa’s, almost protectively, expression hardening as he tried to think of an excuse or some way to avoid the question without losing them their ride. 

Like a magnet, the lady’s eyes fell to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s hands, then back to their faces, then to their hands. Her eyes softened. “Ah,” she said quietly, eyes clear with understanding. “I see now.”

Hongjoong snatched his hand back, heart leaping to his throat at her knowing expression-

“See that, Seulgi,” she said, holding the other woman’s hand and smiling gently. “Look at them.” 

Hongjoong prepared to be ogled, to be rejected and told to get lost. 

He was not prepared for this Seulgi to look between Seonghwa’s battered body and Hongjoong’s stiff stance, and to stare at them with misty eyes as she nodded carefully. 

Seulgi laid a hand on the other woman’s, squeezing it weakly. “You’re a good person, child,” she said, wrinkled face pushing into a smile. “You take care of that boy, understand?” 

Hongjoong stared in shock, eyes flickering between their joined hands, the body language as they leaned against each other, their private smiles, as if they were in on whatever joke he and Seonghwa were telling. 

Oh. 

They were... 

Were they? 

“You don’t have to worry about finding someone like his folks out here,” the other woman assured him, voice warm. “People out here don’t care much for what you do as long as you’re not doing it to them.” She gave him a wink and a small laugh. “Where were you boys before all this? Don’t tell me all of you ran just for your one friend?” Seulgi’s voice was paper thin, but strong. 

Hongjoong wet his lips, shaking some snow from his shoulders. 

“We...” 

And Hongjoong didn’t tell them everything. It would have taken all day . But in the few minutes they had, he explained the eight of them. 

The group of rejects, houseless, and tossed-outs or just runaways who found it better to struggle on the streets than spent another day where they had been. 

Finding each other and relying and building with each other. 

Protecting each other. 

The sound of an engine rumbling filled the silence that Hongjoong left standing as he finished, brushing snow from Seonghwa’s hair as he rested against Hongjoong’s side. 

He looked up and a beat up, old red van turned the corner of the road. 

Seulgi smiled. “There he is. And on time for once! You kids must be good luck,” he said, winking at them. 

Hongjoong managed a smile, gently shaking Seonghwa who blinked away blearily. He focused on Hongjoong after a moment, frowning. “Car’s here,” Hongjoong said quietly, helping him sit up. “They’re gonna take us to town.” 

Seonghwa groaned as Hongjoong helped him up, expression tight. “And then what?” 

Hongjoong blew out a cold breath. “You’ll be the first to know when I figure that out.” 

Seonghwa squeezed his hand silently. 

Hongjoong expected an equally old man to exit the van, but the door slammed shut, and gravel crunched under boots as a young man rounded the car. And he was certainly older than any of the eight of them, but there wasn’t a grey hair on him, even if his face was a little worn with sun and wind. 

He smiled easily, though, gentle eyes falling on the two women. “Seulgi, Jihye, you’re both looking young, as always.” 

“I ought to beat you with my cane,” Jihye muttered, even though her eyes were light. She stood with a papery groan, glaring at the man. “You’re just gonna make us sit here for half an hour in this weather?” 

“You’ve sat through worse,” He laughed, giving her a quick hug. “And you know that the Parks get fussy when their deliveries are late, I had to do that first.” 

“Well, you’ve got one more delivery of the day,” Seulgi said, getting to her feet. “Eight bushels for delivery in town.” She grinned, pointing behind her at the group of them. 

The man’s eyes fell on them for perhaps the first time, looking surprised that he was supposed to be paying attention to them. He trailed over them for a moment, frowning, eyes landing on Seonghwa for a moment longer than the others. 

Hongjoong prepared to tell their story, spill his guts about their intentions and promises not to cause trouble or take up much space- 

“Alright, then,” he said easily, hands coming to his hips. 

Hongjoong’s brain skipped a track. “Alright?” he asked, dumbfounded. “That’s it?”

The man laughed, like Hongjoong was funny. “I’ve got four open seats. The rest of you would have to sit in the back. It’ll be a rough ride, but it’s all I’ve got right now.”

“That works,” Yunho assured him when Hongjoong was still stunned into silence. “Thank you.” 

He nodded, grinning. “You can fight about which of you want the bruised ass at the end of all this.” He turned to the two women. “Let’s get you guys in before your old limbs fall off.” 

“You said we looked young!” Jihye burst, smacking his ankle with her cane. 

He snorted. “Looking and being are different things, dear.” 

She smacked him again, but he dodged it, and Hongjoong focused on their own issues. 

“You and Seonghwa get two of the seats,” Mingi said, as if it were obvious. “Who else?”

No one volunteered, glancing around to see if someone else would raise their hands. 

“Cool. Jongho, San, you two go take the others two seats,” Wooyoung said as if it solved everything. “Let’s get in, shall we?” He waited for protests and none came. 

Somehow, out of everything, this was what was making Hongjoong’s head spin. Everything happening so quickly, with so little resistance… He didn’t know how to cope with that. 

“It’ll be okay,” Seonghwa assured him, a pained smile on his lips. 

Hongjoong quirked his lips automatically. “I’m supposed to be telling you that.” 

“You did tell me that,” he said as they approached the van. “Now it’s my turn.” 

Jihye was seated in the front seat with Seulgi by the window in the back. Hongjoong went in first, helping Seonghwa maneuver the van and sit beside him. San and Jongho went one row back to two pilot seats. Hongjoong could see the man helping the others into the back, closing the doors behind them. 

Holy shit, this was really happening. 

“Now, we’ll be there in no time, provided Eden doesn’t run us off a cliff,” Jihye said, glaring at him. 

“I have never run this van off a cliff,” the man- Eden- said pointedly, making eye contact with Hongjoong in the rearview mirror. 

“Yes,  _ this  _ van has never gone off a cliff,” Seulgi snickered. 

Hongjoong cracked a smile, chuckling. “His name is Eden?” he asked quietly, as they started rolling off. 

Seulgi nodded. “When you see his farm, you’ll understand the nickname.” 

Hongjoong was quiet, nodding in understanding. He had braced himself for awkward small talk or suspicious glances at them, but the ride was mostly silent, with Jihye asking Eden about how work had been going, and they were ignored in the back. 

Seonghwa leaned on Hongjoong, fingers laced together tightly. Hongjoong leaned his head against Seonghwa’s. “You can try and sleep a little bit more, if you’re still tired.” 

Seonghwa hummed, but gave no verbal response. He settled against Hongjoong’s shoulder, but did not fall asleep. 

Hongjoong saw Seulgi looking at them. “Cute,” she whispered quietly, smiling. 

Hongjoong didn’t know… what he was supposed to say to that. So he just smiled tightly, thanking her quietly. He had never seen anyone look at… people like them… and respond positively. 

The ride was silent, and then suddenly, the mountains they had been staring at disappeared and they were riding through a small town with dirt roads and houses that were covered in equipment of various kinds. People milled around, mostly near Seulgi and Jihye’s age. 

The van suddenly stopped, outside a building that could have been a grocery store or a home. Hongjoong couldn’t tell. Eden hopped out, helping Jihye out before aiding Seulgi out the other door. 

Hongjoong sat up straighter, as Eden lead them to the sidewalk where they waved to Hongjoong through the window, smiling gently. 

Hongjoong waved back, feeling his chest lighten a little. Maybe things  _ would _ be okay. 

And then the two of them were walking off, and Eden was looking back at them, and Hongjoong’s heart sank a little as he approached, his hands reaching to undo his seatbelt. 

“Thanks for the-” 

“Now, you guys hold on a moment,” He said, sitting on the edge of the van, one leg dangling over. His young face wasn’t hard in the slightest, but his eyebrows were quirked, as if he was trying to work something out. “What’s your plan once you get out this van? What sort of money do you have?” 

Hongjoong shoved down the part of him that threatened to be embarrassed. “About twenty dollars. But you don’t have to worry about us. We just needed to get to a town. We’ll take care of ourselves.” 

Eden stared at them, eyes tracing in a way that made it seem like he saw right through them. “Well, if don’t have anywhere to stay, you won’t last very long in this particular town. There’s nothing here for people who haven’t lived here for ten years at least. Everything’s too settled for you to make anything here.” 

Hongjoong stared, something twisting in his chest. 

What did he want him to say? 

Hongjoong’s heart sank. What was he supposed to do? Say, ‘Okay, thanks, you can just drop us back off in the middle of nowhere, since there’s no hope for us here!’

Maybe Hongjoong’s face did something. Whether it flickered or fell or showed something that wasn’t quite right, Eden frowned slightly, glancing back to the people gathered in the back and the two sitting in the front. 

“You kids look like hell,” he muttered under his breath, almost in awe, as if marveling they had lasted this long. There was a moment where Hongjoong struggled for something to say, but Eden sighed gently, leaning back against the door of the van. “Alright, then. Tell me everything, and we’ll see where we’ll go from there.” 

Hongjoong swallowed, glancing around at the others who were all staring at him. He glanced at Seonghwa who simply lifted an eyebrow in question as to whether or not Hongjoong wanted to reveal everything. 

So Hongjoong sighed, rubbing at his eyes. And he told him. 

Slightly more in depth than the elder ladies, but not by much. He gave him the run down of where they came from, how they got here, and where they hoped to go. 

“We just want to find a place we can… exist,” Hongjoong said honestly, eyes hard. “Somewhere we can get some work, get a place, and just make another life that was better than our other ones.” 

Eden nodded slowly. 

“We just want to be happy.” Hongjoong’s head whipped to Seonghwa who was staring at him intently. “That’s all we’ve ever wanted.” 

Even the bruises couldn’t kill the intensity of his eyes. 

Eden stared at him, eyes roaming over his bruises and bumps, and he hummed, nodding. “Okay, then,” he said quietly, nodding as if he had made a decision. He slapped his hands on his knees, as if ready to go. “Alright, then, I’ll make you guys an offer.” 

Hongjoong held his breath, head spinning. Eden looked at them differently. Not like the others who stared as if waiting for one of them to pull something. He looked at them, almost as if trying to read their potential. See what they were capable of. 

“An offer?” Hongjoong questioned softly. 

Eden nodded. “How does this sound for you,” he said, settling back. “I’ll take you guys up to my farm. We’ll fix you up with some food and see where we can shove you in some rooms. If you’re willing to work hard and not complain… I’ll see if I can’t find a spot for you to clean some stuff up until it's closer to spring when we start tending the actual farm.” 

Hongjoong’s ears were full of cotton. 

Eden’s mouth was moving, but he wasn’t hearing any words. 

What? 

Seonghwa’s voice sounded like a bullhorn. “Are you… offering us a job?” 

Eden’s voice suddenly rang through. “Well, if Seulgi and Jihye liked you that much…” His eyes ran over them again. “And if you’re desperate enough to run away with no plan, no money, and nothing to fall back on… I figure it’s worth my time to see what you’re willing to do to reach that goal.” 

Hongjoong was drowning. 

He was dreaming. 

There was no way- 

“Is there any catch?” Wooyoung asked from the back, voice hard. “What sort of work are we talking about?”

Eden laughed. “I don’t run slave labor, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he assured them. “And until the snow clears out, it’s mostly animals we’re tending. My help left for the winter, since it’s slower, but if it means I stop having to get up the ass crack of dawn, I’ll train a couple extra hands.” He grinned, genuine and… and… 

Holy shit, Hongjoong was going to pass out. 

“Hongjoong?”

He snapped back into reality, head pounding as Seonghwa looked at him with concern. “What do you think?” he asked. 

Hongjoong’s mouth hung open. He glanced back, and the others were looking at him, too. They were all looking at him, looking  _ to  _ him, waiting for him to make the final decision, to take that final step because he was in charge, he was the one they looked to and relied on- 

“Yes.” 

It came out in a tumble, that Hongjoong didn’t really think about. 

He heard: job, us, a place to sleep, food. 

Those were the four things he had been chasing his whole life, so here they were being handed to him, how the fuck was he supposed to walk by that. 

“Yes, we would, I- We- The job- Yes-” 

The back of the car snickered as Eden grinned, amused. “Well, I heard a couple of ‘yes’s in there, so we’ll go with that.” 

Seonghwa’s hand squeezed his, and even if his face wasn’t bright, his eyes seemed… 

Lighter. 

Hongjoong couldn’t breathe. 

“Well,” Eden said, as if he was speaking down a tunnel. “Let’s see what we can work out, then. If you don’t another little ride.” 

Hongjoong must have blacked out for a moment. Or entered some other realm because here they were… 

Miles from their previous home… nothing with them but each other, nothing planned, nothing certain… and here they were, two minutes in, with jobs being handed to them, and places to live being offered… 

After so much struggle and fighting and suffering… they ran and suddenly… suddenly things were getting  _ better _ ?

That wasn’t  _ possible _ .

“Hongjoong.” 

He jerked over, glancing at Seonghwa. They were moving, Eden back to driving, and Seonghwa stared at him through his one good eye, expression tight. “Are you really okay with this?” Seonghwa asked quietly. “It might not be as good as it seems. Don’t take it just because you think it’s our only choice.” 

And Hongjoong… Hongjoong wasn’t doing it because of that. 

“I’m not,” he said quietly. “But I think that it’s a chance we can take, and we’ll leave if it’s something we don’t want. We… we have that freedom.” 

Seonghwa held his gaze for a moment, Hongjoong’s chest twisting. “You’re sure you want this?” He asked firmly. 

Hongjoong nodded. He… he nodded, eyes meeting Seonghwa’s that bore deep, as if trying to see if there was a lie to catch. Seonghwa stared, concerned and scared, his bruised face twisted into a frown, worried and scared for  _ Hongjoong _ . 

Hongjoong. Who was not the one limping and bruised. Who was not the one who had to run. Who was not the one currently in pain. Who was not the one run out of his own house. 

But Seonghwa still stared. Worried for Hongjoong. Ensuring that this is what Hongjoong wanted. 

Wanted. 

Would this make them happy? 

Did he  _ want  _ to do this?

“Yes.” 

He wanted this. He wanted a life where they could all have work, could live and eat…where they could stop being so fucking scared- 

His eyes burned. And Seonghwa’s brow furrowed as one hand come up and brushed under his eyes. 

It broke a dam, and he felt heat race down his cheeks. 

Fucking  _ hell _ . 

Seonghwa traced his face. “Why are you crying?” he murmured, brushing more away, looking torn. 

Hongjoong let go of a breath, leaning into Seonghwa’s hand as he closed his eyes. “I don’t know,” he whispered, shaking his head, feeling everything slipping around him. “I don’t  _ know _ , but I-” 

Seonghwa hushed him quietly, wiping away the tears and cupping his face. 

Hongjoong sucked in a harsh breath, resisting the urge to pull away and scrub at his eyes. “Fuck,” he hissed, bringing one hand up to brush away the stupid water racing down his stupid cheeks. “Fucking  _ hell- _ Seonghwa, I just-” He breathed out hard, opening his eyes to find Seonghwa still staring in concern. “I just hope this fucking works out. I can’t- I  _ need _ this to fucking work.” 

He just wanted them to be able to settle down. To finally have to stop running. 

Seonghwa sighed gently, brushing his hair from his face and wiping away the newest tears. “It will,” he promised. “I swear, we’re going to make it work, Hongjoong. It’ll all be okay, I promise.” 

He pulled Hongjoong’s head forward until he touched his shoulder, burying his face in his hair. “It’ll be okay,” he promised, to Hongjoong and himself. His bruises stood as symbols to their trials. 

Hongjoong believed him. He had to. He wanted to. Because they didn’t lie to each other. They kept their promises. 

It  _ wasn’t _ a regular promise. 

It was long term. 

He kissed Hongjoong’s temple gently. 

Like Hongjoong’s promise to Seonghwa that it would be okay. Not immediately. Not soon. Maybe not now. Maybe not in  _ years _ . But someday. 

Some  _ fucking  _ day… 

It would be okay. 

Eden glanced at them from the front for a long moment. His lips quirked in gentle amusement. 

“I think I’ll like you kids.” 

~~~~~~~

Hongjoong collapsed onto his bed, letting out a long groan into the pillow. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

“I already hurt myself,” he groaned. “I can’t feel my legs.” 

“Poor baby,” Seonghwa chuckled, the bed dipping as he leaned down on his elbow, staring at Hongjoong’s scrunched face. “Everything went okay?” he asked, smile gentle and soft around the edges. 

Hongjoong hid his face in the pillow again. “If I have to pull another potato out of the ground, I’m going to break something.” 

“On you or around you?”

“All of it.” 

Seonghwa laughed, shifting until he was half on top of Hongjoong, lips tickling his neck as he kissed the skin there. “Eden ran you into the ground today?”

“I’m better off than Wooyoung,” Hongjoong admitted, tilting his head. “I think Yeosang was carrying him back to their room.”

Seonghwa chuckled, running a hand up and down his side. “You’re lucky because I wouldn’t have carried you.” 

Hongjoong huffed, turning until he was facing upwards, their chests pressed together, his brows pulled down. “I’m suffering.” 

“I feel for you, truly,” Seonghwa said, lips quirked warmly. 

Hongjoong huffed, hitting his chest roughly, tossing his head back. “ _ Stop _ .”

“Stop what?” Seonghwa laughed, resting his head on his hand. 

Hongjoong hit him again. “Stop smiling like that, you make me feel things.” 

“I’ve been making you feel things for a while now, Hongjoong, you’d think you’d get used to it.” 

“Yeah, you’d  _ think _ !”

Seonghwa grinned, brushing his hair away. “You need a shower,” he said fondly. 

Hongjoong glared. “Okay, feelings are gone now.” 

So, of course, Seonghwa kissed him. 

Hongjoong would be mad about how quickly the aches and pains from the day melted away at the first fucking touch, but they melted away, so he could only be grateful, really. Seonghwa’s lips were warm and gentle, like sunlight through a window, and Hongjoong could never stop himself from just falling into that current. 

Hongjoong could still scarcely believe that they just had entire afternoons where all they had to do was lay down as Seonghwa kissed the breath out of him, like it was the first time again. 

They got up too early and mostly stayed out too late, but those days when there was little to do and things got done early… they were free to do what they liked. 

No need to stay out in the snow and then come back colder than you’ve ever felt before, into an equally cold warehouse. 

They were bundled in coats, sent out with hand warmers, and when they returned, there was a fireplace that was always roaring (or it had been in the winter) and rooms that were heated, even if they were small. 

And when Seonghwa and Hongjoong tumbled into their bed together, it wasn’t with limbs aching beyond recognition, it wasn’t with skin icy to the touch, it wasn’t with stomachs cramped with hunger or anger. 

It wasn’t with the knowledge that they couldn’t stay here. It wasn’t with the fear of staying out just that much too long. It wasn’t with the thought they would eventually part, and Hongjoong would return to work he hated and Soengwha would return to people he suffered at the hands of. 

It was with full bellies courtesy of Eden’s pantry, with skin warmed by the heater, with light hearts even if their limbs were heavy with work. 

It was good work. Happy work. The other hands were nice, if a big gruff, and people smiled at you when you passed them. 

Hongjoong had people offering to help with his tasks, as he offered in turn. They talked as they worked, gossip and fantastical stories about how Eden made a deal with an angel to gain such good farmland. 

Eden apparently ruled the farm scene around here. Green thumb, luck, good soil, whatever you attributed it to, you walked through his field, thinking you really had been transported to that legendary garden. 

Hongjoong and the others helped with that. Weeding and planting and harvesting. 

People like Yeosang and San worked best with the animals. Eden swore up and down that one goat wasn’t going to let them anywhere near itself, but Yeosang just walked right up to it with a bundle of grass, and the thing followed him like an imprinted duckling. San apparently had a natural knack for milking that Eden often praised. 

It was… surprising (according to Eden) how quickly they adjusted as city people to the ins and outs of farming with a little guidance. Hongjoong always said they had been good at adapting. 

The farm was infinitely better than the boat. Hongjoong was… 

He was happy. 

It took a while to find a rhythm, and it was tiring work, but it felt more fulfilling because all he had to do was turn his head right and see Yunho and Mingi and Jongho running around doing their own chores. Yeosang and San were a few meters away at the barn, Wooyoung was rushing back and forth with Seonghwa doing whatever it was Eden had ordered. 

And they were smiling. 

Brighter, better, more real than Hongjoong could remember seeing in so many fucking years. They grinned at him as they passed, as if each of them were sending a private joke. 

Can’t believe we’re here, right?

And Hongjoong really couldn’t. 

Eden almost appeared as an angel himself, trying them out for a week and then almost falling out of his chair laughing at dinner. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen real hands work as hard as the lot of you have!” he said, undeniably amused. “You guys must run on batteries or something!” 

But their desperate work was appreciated and rewarded. 

Spring hit, and Eden really put them to work, along with the other help be brought back on. 

And they… they loved it. 

The work was good, the pay was good, and Eden had no qualms with them remaining in all his extra bedrooms. 

“I used to house all the hands, but most of them had their own families to go back to,” He told them with a shrug. “But I’m not doing anything else with these rooms, so it’s not like it’s right for me to expect any sort of rent, is it?”

Eden was the most laid back person Hongjoong had ever met. He had set expectations for their work, and as long as those were met, he couldn’t care less what else they did with their time. 

Including who they chose to be… intimate with. 

Eden, of course, knew everything after time passed. All the gritty details they never wanted to show the light of day. And all he had offered them was a grim nod and a piece of pie a neighbor had brought. Nothing more was said. 

Save for the days when they entered into the kitchen looking a little more tired, and he smirked over the top of his coffee. 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa could never meet his eyes. 

Wooyoung and Yeosang just stared back, asking how he slept. 

“Longer than you, surely,” He would reply without fail. 

Wooyoung would grin, sharp and wicked. “Bet I slept better than you, though.” 

“Well, I’m sure you tire easily.” 

To which Yeosang would snicker as Wooyoung flustered out an attempted response. Eden would just grin and tell him to get to work. 

Hongjoong had kept a close eye on Yeosang and Wooyoung, but they seemed almost more content than anyone else. 

“The rooms already have names,” Hongjoong heard Wooyoung whispering to Yeosang as they carried water along the path. “But there’s still a lot of them. Is it good enough?”

Yeosang had simply nodded, and Hongjoong almost cried again in the middle of the fields. 

And maybe after so short a time, it was abrupt to call such a place home, but it was more of a home than any of them had ever had. 

Eden was the closest thing to family any of them had outside of each other. 

(Come on- the man had gotten them all late-Christmas stocking and presents. It was pretty obvious.) 

And on days when they had off (few and far between, but nothing like before) they went down into the town and wandered, stopping for tea at Seulgi and Jihye’s to tell them all about how awful Eden was. 

They threatened him with their canes each time, shaking their heads before asking how Hongjoong and Seonghwa had… you know,  _ been _ . (Jihye grinned like a mad woman each time.) 

Hongjoong and Seonghwa were free. Their days were spent working, but when they met up for meals, they would sit and talk, and their shared room was always filled with some sort of gossip or another about the day. 

(Except those nights where it silent save for breaths and sounds of missing each other during the day. As few as those nights really were.) 

Eden certainly didn’t care. Neither did anyone else who seemed to find out. 

It was the strangest thing Hongjoong could think of. 

“It doesn’t seem real,” Yeosang muttered at breakfast one day, staring out the window. 

“What doesn’t?” Hongjoong questioned. 

“All of this,” He said quietly, eyes distant and cracked. “Wooyoung and I have done more here, but don’t have a single bruise to show for it. Not even a dirty look.” And Hongjoong had almost knocked over his glass when he saw Yeosang’s eyes shimmer. “Part of me wants to be bitter that it took us this long to be able to be like this, but the only thing I can feel is so much relief, it’s  _ sickening _ .” 

Yeosang cried then. And Hongjoong just hugged him until Wooyoung got there to take over, Hongjoong graciously leaving as Wooyoung took his face in his hands, asking what was wrong. 

(Hongjoong passed by a few minutes later, just to check in, and Yeosang was in Wooyoung’s lap with their lips firmly connected, so he bowed out and just directed traffic away from the kitchen for a few minutes, his heart disgustingly full because the only place they had been comfortable enough to do that before was the safety of their own room in the warehouse.)

They were safe here. 

They were happy. 

They were free. To act as they liked, to do what they liked, to be whatever they liked. 

`Hongjoong pulled away from Seonghwa, breathing against his lips as Seonghwa’s hands gripped his hips gently. 

“We kept our promises,” he breathed, Seonghwa frowning for a moment. Hongjoong threaded fingers through his hair, eyes tracing his face that was smooth and healed. 

There was nothing here to hurt them. Nothing but sunburn and the occasional hooved animal that got too excited. 

“I got you out of there,” he breathed, fingers tracing down Seonghwa’s neck and over his shoulder, nails scratching lightly at the exposed skin. They traced his chest and ribs that hadn’t been colored by bruises for months. “And you gave me everything I wanted.” 

He pulled Seonghwa down, tasting warmth and sugar from the hot chocolate they drank earlier. Seonghwa shifted, arms caged around Hongjoong, lips moving against his in slow, rhythmic ripples that felt like floating in water. His hands were strong, his muscles not weighed down with aches that never had a chance to heal. His skin was smooth and pale, unmarred by anything but callouses gained from work. 

“Not everything,” Seonghwa said between kisses, frowning in confusion. “There’s no way it was every-” 

Hongjoong kissed him, deep and dragging as he pulled his body flush against his, not needing to worry about hurting him anymore. “Everything,” Hongjoong promised. “I’m happy-” A kiss. “You stayed with us-” Another. “We talk-” Again. “We got the hell out of there- We kept this-” 

This one was longer, Seonghwa pushing forward, hands carding through Hongjoong’s hand, landing at the curve of his neck. 

“Everything you promised me,” Hongjoong swore quietly into Seonghwa’s skin. “Everything I ever wanted, Seonghwa.” 

Everything he wanted and more. Things he never dreamed, even in his wildest fantasies, that he would get. 

Like Seonghwa against him, neither of thinking of anything but each other. Not a trace of fear in their minds. Not a single thought to drive them closer but a desire to feel. 

“You kept your promise, Seonghwa.” 

“You gave me everything, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered against his lips, not even moving enough to breath. “The things that even you couldn’t imagine to try and give me, things I didn’t even know I wanted, things I didn’t know I didn’t have-” 

He whispered the words into Hongjoong’s skin, traveling down his neck in slow kisses that made Hongjoong swallowed down noises. 

“Things I had been denied for so long, I forgot they existed. You gave it all to me, Hongjoong. You gave me everything- freedom, love, safety, all of it from you-” 

Hongjoong kissed him slowly, mouths coaxing against each other as Hongjoong tried to calm the storm in his chest. So long, and he still couldn’t bear to look Seonghwa in the eyes for too long. Couldn’t bear to think about how much he fucking loved him because he just didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Couldn’t think about how tripping in a park brought him here. 

A small noise from Seonghwa’s throat, and Hongjoong pulled away, resting their foreheads together, both of them simply watching the other with hooded eyes. 

Not even a full year. 

How long had they suffered? And only months later, they were farther than they had thought they would  _ ever  _ be. Hongjoong had expected to settle in every way possible, but here they were, thriving, living, happy- 

They were so fucking happy. 

Hongjoong was so fucking happy, he couldn’t breathe half the time. 

“I never needed this much,” Seonghwa whispered into his chest, pressing kisses down his collarbone. “But I’m so glad I have it.” 

“Me, too,” Hongjoong breathed, fingers curling in his eyes as his eyes closed. 

Yunho, Mingi, and San were going to be going to bed. Jongho was likely still down in the kitchen, trying to find dinner, since he worked a little later on the fences. 

Yeosang and Wooyoung… well, they tended to disappear during the nights. No one really knew where they went, but Hongjoong didn’t really care because they were happy. 

They were free. He had turned too many corners to find them pressed into them, as if reveling in their new confidence. (Eden had mentioned it once, but the glint in his eyes was too soft to be true annoyance.) 

All of them… they made it. 

Seonghwa sucked a bruise into Hongjoong’s chest, and Hongjoong wrapped a leg through his tightly. 

They had all that they needed, wanted, and more. All of them. 

Hongjoong twisted until Seonghwa obeyed his coaxes, Hongjoong ending straddling his waist and kissing him at a new angle that had Seonghwa grabbing his hips tightly. 

There was no shadow of his father following them. No bruises and aches to serve as reminders of where he was stuck. 

Seonghwa’s hands found the pockets of his jeans, pulling him forward. 

Seonghwa hadn’t even thought of his father in weeks. 

Hongjoong gasped into his mouth as Seonghwa grinned smugly. Hongjoong smacked him, face flaming. 

Out there, they only had each other to rely on. Each other was all they needed. 

Hongjoong suddenly pushed his hips back, dragging against Seonghwa’s crotch which elicited a shocked gasp, Seonghwa’s hands grabbing Hongjoong’s hips again to stop him, his eyes wide enough that Hongjoong had to laugh as he kissed the dumb look off his face, Seonghwa’s arms wrapping around him like a blanket. 

And maybe even in here, all they had was each other. Even now, each other was all they  _ wanted _ . 

Hongjoong smiled against Seonghwa’s lips, an intoxicating feeling as Seonghwa pinching his side. 

All they had ever wanted… ever needed… was each other. 

“I love you.” 

Neither of them was sure which of them said it first. But it was something that was passed back and forth like a secret that everyone knew. As if this was the currency they dealt in, now. 

As if it was the only thing they ever needed. 

All they ever had to need or want was each other. 

~~~~~~~

Wooyoung turned, holding a hand out to help Yeosang through the window. 

Being in the very top bedroom gave them the smallest room, but it was the only one that had a window leading out onto the roof. 

Wooyoung laid down, waiting for Yeosang to get comfortable beside him. 

Part of this was uncomfortable, as he remembered laying on a rooftop and staring up, wishing for something better as he nursed their bruises. But most of him just felt like it was floating off, unburdened and free to rise up into the stars that had been their only comfort.

Yeosang didn’t settle beside him, though, with only their hands touching, as they always did. 

His body pushed up against Wooyoung’s, slotting beneath his arm, hands tangling as his head rested on Wooyoung’s chest. Wooyoung frowned, glancing down. 

And for the first time, Yeosang wasn’t staring up at the stars. He looked at Wooyoung, eyes a million stars in and of themselves as he stared at Wooyoung with an expression… 

And expression Wooyoung couldn’t quite read. 

It wasn’t sad, but it wasn’t happy. Something wistful but fulfilled. Shining and shattered at the same time. As if everything was trying to force its way through at once. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly, hand trailing up and down his spine. 

Yeosang just swallowed, shaking his head slowly. “Nothing.” 

“Well, it’s something,” Wooyoung said lightly. “Why are you staring at me?” 

Yeosang hummed quietly, not even blinking. His eyes traced Wooyoung’s face. “I always look at the stars,” he murmured. “I look at them because… I like to imagine flying off into them. Somewhere far away. Somewhere better. Like they’ll tell me how to get there.” 

As they both did. 

Yeosang ducked his head, face buried in Wooyoung’s chest, hand squeezing. “I don’t need to look at them anymore,” he said, muffled through the shirt. “I don’t want to leave here.” 

And that… that made Wooyoung loop his arms around Yeosang, drawing him closer until they were facing each other, Yeosang still buried in his chest. 

“I’m glad,” he whispered, and if his voice caught a little, what did it matter? 

Yeosang and Wooyoung had spent so much of their lives in different prisons. Different bars between them and everything they wanted. And Wooyoung had gotten so used to them being there, it was hard to see when they left. 

It took him weeks to realize the fact that he could touch Yeosang in public. He could kiss him around the house and no one… no one would harm them for it. 

Not a single bruise had been placed on Yeosang’s body that wasn’t put there by Wooyoung (with permission, of course, no matter how Eden liked to smirk over his coffee). Not a single slur or spit directed at them. 

And the day he came to that realization, he and Yeosang cried on their bed until their eyes ached and their throats burned. 

They had been so close to freedom with the others that they hadn’t realized what true freedom felt like. They forgot that what they had before was still a prison, as nice as it was. 

But now, Wooyoung could kiss Yeosang for no other reason than he felt like it. Be in the house or falling into hay bales in the barn when Yeosang had a break. It didn’t matter. 

That was their true freedom. 

And Wooyoung spent most of his nights drunk off of it. 

And Yeosang… Yeosang smiled at him. He laughed and he smiled and he grinned and he shoved, and he showed parts of himself that Wooyoung had only ever seen in secret for so long- 

There was so much for them here. 

Seonghwa was far from anyone who could do anything to him. Hongjoong was safe from his own self-heroism. 

They had a home, money, food, each other… 

Yeosang’s head suddenly came up, lips pressing to Wooyoung’s quickly. He had been doing that a lot more lately. Kissing Wooyoung. Not that Wooyoung minded. 

You never realized there was more than what you had. Wooyoung would have answered any day of the week that he was happy with Yeosang. He and Yeosang were free in the city. 

But it wasn’t until he was able to hold Yeosang’s hand in the light of day that he realized he had been holding it in the dark. 

Wooyoung caught his waist as Yeosang positioned himself across Wooyoung’s lap, flush against him as he kissed him, eyes shut tight, but hands gentle where they caressed his skin. Wooyoung trailed hands along his side, comforting and roaming as Yeosang pulling away only long enough to breathe before pressing back against him. 

Wooyoung always thought he was able to get drunk on Yeosang. (Based on the one time he had been drunk, sneaking into his mom’s liquor cabinet just to piss her off.) It felt like his mind was floating and his fingers loss feeling and his vision tunneled until Yeosang was all there was. 

“I love you,” Yeosang whispered against his lips before sealing them again. 

Wooyoung pulled away, just enough to look Yeosang in the eyes that cracked open. “It’s been a while since you’ve said that one.” His lips felt numb. 

Granted, it had been longer since Wooyoung had said it. That didn’t stop the way his stomach flipped. 

Yeosang rolled his lips almost nervously. “Yeah,” he breathed, eyes flickering around Wooyoung’s face. 

It had never been one of the things they said to each other. So much of themselves went unsaid, it was unnecessary. They knew. Why say what they both knew? 

But Wooyoung’s mouth was dry as he watched Yeosang stare at him. 

“I wanted to say it. I… felt like saying it.” 

Wooyoung swallowed, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he whispered. “Should I say it, too?” His voice came out a little hoarse. 

Yeosang let out a wet laugh that died quickly. “If you want to,” he assured him. 

Suddenly, Yeosang was beneath him, and Wooyoung’s lips were on him, Yeosang’s hands catching his biceps to squeeze in surprise, his mouth falling open almost naturally as Wooyoung almost bruised his lips. 

Wooyoung was always… he wouldn’t say  _ afraid  _ of that word. But it was… it was weird. For no other reason than… well, no one ever used it. Fuck, if his parents had ever told him that. God forbid anyone at the orphanage say it. 

Hell, the first time Yeosang said it, Wooyoung almost laughed in his face because, come on, no one actually  _ means  _ that. It’s a place holder. A placating phrase to keep you silent and happy. 

And then Yeosang showed him what it meant to  _ love  _ someone. Not as an empty word, but as a physical thing. A movement. An  _ action _ . An event. 

When it was the two of them, during cool spring weather, hidden in storage unit that they were using as a home. And Yeosang showed Wooyoung what it truly meant to actively  _ love  _ someone. 

Not to just say it. 

And to Wooyoung… to Wooyoung, the verbage became unnecessary. The words “I love you” meant next to nothing to him, save for when they came from Yeosang. Because Yeosang had  _ showed  _ him, proved to him, that he did. 

So to Wooyoung… words were never enough. Were never even part of it. 

So he didn’t whisper it back. He didn’t whisper it to Yeosang, in a private little coin passed between the two of them. 

Wooyoung showed it. 

He kissed Yeosang, gentle hands traversing his body as Yeosang clung to him, accepting the silent message. 

He mouthed it into his skin but the words never left. 

Because as long as words were used, they could be erased with time. 

Kissing Yeosang, though… Touching him, that was never erased. That was never doubted. You couldn’t  _ lie  _ a touch. 

“I love you,” Yeosang whispered, because words meant something to him. But he knew they meant less to Wooyoung. But he also knew that his words alone meant more than anyone else’s. 

But Yeosang was the only person he could trust to never lie a word. 

When Yeosang said it, he meant it because he had  _ shown  _ it before. He had shown it day after day until even Wooyoung couldn’t doubt him anymore. 

So up on Eden’s rooftop, they forgot about the stars for once in their lives. The stars no longer held what they wanted. 

Yeosang’s legs tangled with his, keeping them from separating any further than the centimeters it took to breathe. 

_ They  _ held what they wanted. In their hands that intertwined and traced patterns into warm skin, in their arms that wrapped around each other too tight but never tight enough, and in their lips that traveled along whatever skin they could reach, whispering silent words they already had etched into their skin. 

Wooyoung loved Yeosang and he would  _ show  _ him. 

Yeosang gasped, burying his face in Wooyoung’s neck as Wooyoung kissed the curve of his shoulder gently. 

He was now free to show him.  _ Whenever  _ Wooyoung wanted,  _ however  _ he wanted, he could show Yeosang. For however long he wished, he would  _ show  _ Yeosang, until both of them ran out of ways to show or say or feel it. 

And that… 

That was his true freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WooHoo! Another story down!   
> I’m gonna try and figure out my next story, but it’s still up in the air. Feel free to toss me any suggestions, just for fun!   
> I’ll try and keep you updated for what I’m planning, but I’m not sure when I’ll post it~~  
> Thank you again, and feel free to chat in between my stories!!   
> -SS

**Author's Note:**

> I have a twitter and a CC if you’re interested in communicating! Both of them are @_SinisterSound!  
> I’m awkward but I don’t bite!


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